THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


X 


MKH.  E.  M.  McLEOD. 


Love's    Offering 


AND   OTHER   POEMS 


MRS.  E.  M.  MC-LEOD 

Wife  of  Rev.  James  McLeod,  Pioneers 

and  for  many  years  residents  of 

Laingsburg,  Michigan,    now 

of  Bakersfield,  California. 


1900. 


J.  C.  STONE,    Printer,  Lansing,  Mk-h. 


CONTENTS. 


Love's  Offering   '_ 5 

Our  Ship 6 

In  Memo  Ham             ....  7 

What  Shall   We  Do?            .        .  8 

Loving  Heart*  and  Friends  .        .  9 

Whither  Bound?           ...  9 

Onward  to  Victory          .        .        .  10 

The  King's  Busness  Requires  Haste  11 

What  Can  I  Do?        ....  12 

Lena 13 

Distant  Murmurs       ....  1.4 

Lullaby            15 

Open  Gate  to  the  Twentieth  Century  16 

Spring 17 

Rain 18 

A  Royal  Gift          ....  18 

The  Cup  of  Life         ....  19 

In  Memory  of  the  Heroic  Dead    .  20 

Treasures  of  Earth           .        .        -  21 

Our  Harvest  Song        ...  22 

Thanksgiving  Song          ...  23 

Grandma's  Christmas  Song       .  25 

Go  Work  in  My  Vineyard      .        .  26 


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LIBRARY 


PAGE 

Rally S4 

Encouragement  to  Labor   .        .  s.~> 

What  Can  We  Do  for  Jesus  V          .  <s(> 

Joy  Cometh  in  the  Morning        .  NT 
Semi-Centennial  of  the  Baptist  Church  NS 

Prohibition S9 

Asleep  in  Jesus        ....  90 

Bury  Me  by  the  River       .        .        .  91 

An  Epitaph 91 

Home  Angels 92 

Lines 9H 

An  Epitaph 9:J 

Out  of  Place 94 

They  Have  Entered  Into  Their  Rest  '.).~> 

Decoration  Day      ....  9fi 

Our  County  Jail  is  Empty    .        .  97 

Song1  of  an  Invalid        .        .        .  9<S 

[Measure's  Duties       ....  9S 

Flowers 99 

Questionings 100 

An  Epitaph 100 

A  China  W.-ddin-      .        .        .        .  101  . 

Sweet  faded  Flowers    .         .         .  102 

Our  Darlino- li)2 

Tc  Mrs.  W lo:-J 

An  Epitaph lo:-l 

Who  Will  Go?        .        .        .        -  1<>4 

Little  Feet  104 


PAGE 

Bear  Ye  One  Another's  Burdens    -  105 

Kind  Words 106 

Snow 10() 

Red  Ribbon  Tidings      -       -       -  107 

Our  Loved  Ones        ....  108 

A  Quiet  Christmas          -        -        -  109 

Hetonka Ill 

Last  Words     -----  112 

"He  Being  Dead,  Yet  Speaketh"  -  113 

To  Alice 115 

Our  Pioneers 117 

To  A  Dying  Friend       -               .  lls 

Weep  Not     - 11!) 

The  Contrast         -        -       -    '    -  120 

Brothers,  To  The  Rescue        -       -  122 

Blessed  Are  The  Pure  In  Heart  -  128 

Bakersfield 124 

We  Are  Going  Home  to  Mother  -  125 

Eighty  To-day 12G 

God's  Finger  Touched  Her  and  She 

Slept     - 127 

Light  Beyond                 -       -        -  128 
An  Appeal    -               -       -       -       -130 

Woman's  Fair  Name    -  181 

In  Memoriam     -  133 

Our  Banquet— 1890      -        -        -  134 

Be  True 135 


PAGE 

To  Jessie  on  Her  Birthday      .  130 

Life  on  the  Rockies       .        .    ,    .  1.37 

Dialogue,  for  Alton     .        .        .  139 

The  Seasons 139 

Comforting  Thoughts       .        .  140 


Love's  Offering, 


How  often  love  an  offering  brings 
While  busy  time  is  on  the  wing. 
Sometimes  it  is  a  costly  gift, 
Which  gold  a!one  has  power  to  lift: 
But  often  'tis  a  little  flower 
That  bloomed  in  shady  nook  or  bower, 
Or  yet,  perhaps,  a  leaf  of  green 
The  first  in  early  spring  time  seen. 

If  love  but  prompts,  whate'er  the  gift, 
1  hough  large  or  small   it  helps  to  lift 
The  heart  above  all  earthly  care, 
And  helps  us  each  one's  part  to  bear. 
If  love  be  absent,  gifts  are  vain", 
For  love  alone  can  break  the  chain 
Of  coldness,  selfishness  and  care 
That  binds  and  keeps  us  prisoners  here. 

This  simple  lay,  love's  offering. 
Is  all  that  I  can  ever  bring, 
The  simple  gifts,  so  truly  mine 
Daily  offered  at  the  home  shrine; 
And  in  return  I  ask  you  all 
To  heed  the  Savior's  loveing  call, 
Accept  the  gift  He  freely  gives 
Accept  His  love — believe  and  live. 


Our  Ship. 


Far  away  on  the  ocean  of  time 
A  gallant  barque,  with  a  look  sublime, 
Is  bounding  gaily  o'er  the  billow. 
Graceful  as  a  bending  willow. 
Whither  goeth  this  noble  ship? 
As  o'er  the  wave  she  gaily  skips, 
Catching  her  breath  at  every  gale, 
Fully  expanding  her  widening  sails. 
Beautiful  vessel,  so  lovely  to  see, 
Whither  goeth  she  over  the  sea? 

What  is  she  laden  with — who  can  tell? 
Memory  answers,  "1  know  too  well." 
She  is  freighted  with  treasures  for  young  aini 

old, 

Treasures  that  cannot  be  bought  with  gold; 
Love's  precious  gifts,  and  joys  unsung, 
And  sorrows'  tears  from  sad  hearts  wrung: 
Treasures  from  God,  so  wisely  given 
Have   been     returned  for    safe-keeping    in 

Heaven, 

Her  offerings  she  gives  as  she  sails  along, 
To  one  a  tear,  to  another  a  song. 

How  long  saileth  she  over  the  sea? 

Till  the  seasons  have  passed  to  eternity: 

Each  one  laying  her  treasure  down, 

Till  autumn  comes  with  golden  crown, 

Then  the  snow-flakes  begin  to  fall. 

Saying  they  are  the  last  of  all. 

Covering  the  bier  of  the  past  with  a  pall, 

Weaving  a  mantle  of  love  over  all. 

Precious  garland  of  treasure  given. 

But  the  best  of  all  are  garnered  in  Heaven. 

A  wonderful  thing  is  this  gallant  barque. 

Sailing  along  in  the  light  or  dark. 

The  helm  must  be  held  by  a  Father's  hand. 


His  loving  voice  must  give  command. 

When  the  seasons  have  rolled  around, 

And  Christmas  anthems  again  resound, 

U'e  in  our  hearts  begin  to  sigh 

For  the  days,  weeks  and  months  about  to  die. 

Tenderly,  lovingly  falleth  our  tears, 

For  the  name  of  our  ship  is  the  Dying  Year. 


In  Memoriam, 


God  takes  the  Christian  mother  home, 

When  all  her  work  is  done, 
Rejoice  that  she  is  victor  crowned. 

The  victory  is  won. 
Life  so  full  of  toil  and  pain, 

For  mother  now  is  o'er. 
A  welcome  she  has  gained 

Upon  the  other  shore. 

Then  children  smile  and  dry  your  tears 

Forever  with  the  Lord. 
The  promise  He  has  given 

To  all  who  trust  His  word. 
Like  her  they  toil  and  pray  and  wait, 

And  patiently  endure. 
And  children's  children  too'shall  find 

These  promises  are  sure. 

Oh!  wonderful,  the  entrance  gained 

Within  the  pearly  gate, 
If  we  could  catch  a  single  glimpse 

Our  rapture  would  be  great 
Her  cup  of  happiness  complete, 

Yes.  more  than  satisfied, 
She  waits  her  loved  ones  now  to  greet 

Upon  the  other  side. 


What  Shall  We  Do  ? 


What  shall  we  bring  in  our  hands  to-day, 
For  the  boys  who  ace  In  id  hy  thousands  away 
From  the  sight  of  Mother  and  Home,  so  dear? 
And  their  number  increases  year  by  year; 
Shall  we  bringsweet  flowers  as  they  do  to-day 
To  deck  the  graves  of  the  blue  and  the  gray" 

They  did  not  go  with  the  sound  of  the  drnm. 
With  ringing  of  bells  and  music's  huiri: 
They  did  not  go  with  banners  so  bright, 
To  pass  from  our  homes  like  gleams  of  HjrKr; 
What  shall  we  do  for  our  boys,  to-day, 
Who  in  sorrow  and  shame  were  laid  away? 

Shall  we  shed,  o'er  the  graves,  hot  scalding 

tears, 

To  mark  the  record  of  passing  years; 
And  then  go  away  to  our  homes  again, 
Without  a  thought  of  the  cruel  pain, 
In  the  mother's  heart  must  linger  yet-— 
For  the  fate  of  the  boy  she  can  ne'er  forget? 

Shall  we  gather  flowers  for  the  blue  and  gray, 
_  And  only  leaves  for  the  drunkard's  grave? 
Say,  what  shall  we  do  witlr-the  passing  year* 
So  linked  together  with  shining  tears? 
Oh,  Memory!  in  silence  entwine, 
A  mother's  love  with  love  divine. 

Then  let  them  rest  in  silence  too, 
while  we  live  on  there's  work  to  do, 
To  teach  the  boys,  who  live  to-day, 
This  noble  truth — -'Vote  as  you  pray;" 
Then  when  God  calls  our  boys  away, 
We'll   deck   their  graves  with  the  blue  and 
the  gray. 


Loveing  Hearts  and  Friends. 

We  thank  thee,  Heavenly  Father, 
For  the  gifts  thy  kindness  sends. 

But  more  than  all,  we  thank  thee, 
For  loveing  hearts  and  friends. 

'Mid  scenes  of  joy  and  sorrow 
When  clouds  and  sunshine  blend, 

'Tis  then  we  feel  the  influence 
Of  loveing  hearts  and  friends. 

Grant  us,  our  Heavenly  Father, 
Where'er  our  footsteps  tend, 

Hearts  to  ever  praise  thee, 

For  loveiug  hearts  and  friends 

Whither  Bound? 


Whither  bound,  to  heaven  or  heli? 
Sinner,  can  you,  will  you,  te»l? 
Forward!  is  our  cry  to-day; 
Sinner,  will  you  go  or  stay? 
Come  and  share  the  joys  of  heaven; 
Sinner,  will  you  be  forgiven? 

Whither  bound:  O  stop  and  think 
Ere  you  down  to  ruin  sink. 
Jesus  en  IK  he  calls  to-day; 
Sinner,  why  wi  1  you  delay. 
Come  to  Jesus  Christ  and  live, 
He  is  ready  to  forgive. 

Whither  bound!  Oh,  hear  that  cry! 
Sinner  turn,  why  will  ye  die? 
Hark,  the  voice  of  mercy  crying, 
See  the  purple  fountain  flowing! 
Sinner,  will  you,  will  you  come. 
And  find  in  Jesus  peace  aud  home. 


Onward  to  Victory. 

\o  backward  step  has  been  taken, 
No  retreat  has  ever  been  known': 

Persistently,  earnestly  praying, 
Our  trust  in  Jehovah  alone. 

So  the  years  have  been  slowly  advancing, 

Bach  one  with  a  story  to  tell 
Of  the  seed  we've  been  steadily  sowing, 

The  record— by  Angels— kept  well. 

And  now  the  God  of  the  harvest, 

Who  has  watched  o'er  the  seedling  with  care, 
Who  has  heard  the  faint  cry  of  His  children 

Who  has  treasured  each  tear-drop  and 
prayer, 

Is  u r jring  us  onward  to  victory, 

Is  filling  our  ranks  every  day, 
With  men  who  stand  up  among  men, 

And  dare  to  vote  as  they  pray, 

So  brothers  and  sisters  stand  firm, 
In  union  alone  there  is  strength; 

The  rallying  cry  is  now  heard 

Throughout  our  '.vhole  country's  length. 

The  signal  fires  have  been  lighted, 
The  watchword  is  passing  along, 

Inspiring  each  heart  wiih  fresh  courage, 
To  fight  this  our  nation's  great  wrong. 

Great  God,  give  us  wisdom  we  pray  thee, 
And  "Light"  incur  darkened  way, 

May  no  false  step  e'er  be  taken, 
As  onward  we  hasten  to-day. 

Yes  !  on,  and  to  victory,  brothers 

In  actions  do  just  what  you  say; 
Have  faith  in  your  efforts,  my  brother;*, 

And  dare  to  vote  as  you  pray  ! 


The  King's  Business  Ke  quires  Haste 

Haste,  haste!  for  the  Tocsin  is  calling; 

Brothers  arise,  for  the  foe  is  so  near, 
That— listen — the  sound  of  his  footsteps 

Out  on  I  he  night  air,  so  plainly  we  hear; 
Yes,  he  is  coming:  to  arms  —then  to  arms! 

Go  forth  with  fresh  courage  to  meet  th<* 

dread  foe, 

Rememberiug,  dear   brother,  the   women  arc 
praying, 

And  God  will  be  with  you  wherever  you  go. 

Fight,  nght!  for  yonr  home.?  are  in  danger. 

And  all  that  is  dear  to  affection  and  love: 

Your  freeman's   proud   heart    will  not  deign 

to  surrender 
The  chains  which  now  bind  you  to  Heaven 

above; 
Yet  the  foe  is  now  coiling  the  serpent  around 

them, 

And  gladly  would  tighten  them  now  in  it- 
folds: 

^o  hasten,  dear  brother,  and  work  for  Amend- 
ment, 

Bringing  joy  to  fond  he.-trt.s  and  peace  to 
households 

Go  with  your  banners  and  music  resounding. 
But  hold  in  your  hand  the  weapon  so  true: 
A  wee  bit  of  paper,  with    "Yes,  for  Amend- 
ment," 

This  place  in  the  ballot  box.  bravely  t<<| 
For  the  eyes  of  the   children   are  watching. 

to-day. 

To  see  what  the  fathers  will  do, 
So  hasten,  dear  brothers,  the  bugle  is  sound- 
ing, 
And  calling  for  you,  your  duty  to  do. 


What  Can  I  Do? 


I  cannot  form  a  star, 

Or  make  it  shine, 
I  cannot  trace  a  flower, 

With  tints  so  fine. 
The  harp  that  I  would  bring 

Has  broken  strings. 
I'm  like  a  wounded  bird, 

That  cannot  fly.  but,  sings. 
There's  music  in  my  soul 

But  oh!  it  discard  makes 
Yet  I  never  can  control 

The  echoes  thai  it  makes. 
Then  take  this  broken  lyre 

Dear  Saviour  mine, 
And  touch  anew  the  strings 

With  love  divine. 
That  only  sad  and  weary  ones 

Can  hear  the  whispered  tones. 
That  I  can  sound  for  other 

Hearts,  than  mine  alone. 
I  would  not  music  make 

For  those  who  sweetly  siqg 
They  can  their  ovtjKwork  do. 

Their  offering  bring, 
Yet  I  can  do  something 

Dear  Lord,  for  thee, 
Wilt  thou  not  make  it  plain 
^     So  I  can  see 
The  way,  and  walk  therein? 

Let  me  do  something 
Some  one  to  win 

To  paths  of  virtue 
From  paths  of  sin. 


Lena. 

Beautiful  Lena,  lying  so  still, 

Calm  as  a  lily  that  floats  e'er  the  rill,        , 

Sweet  was  thy  influence,  lovingly  felt. 

Oh  !  how  oui'  hearts  now  in  tenderness  melt  • 

We  know  thy  spirit  has  flov^n  away  home, 

Where  neither  sorrow  or  sickness  can  come. 

Patiently  waiting,  months  passed  away, 
But  peace,  like  a  halo,  o'er  thy  quiet  face  lay; 
Thy  lieart  was    at  rest,  thy  peace  made  with 

God, 

In  quiet  submission  the  valley  you  trod; 
The  Saviour  was  with   thee,   hia   hands  o'er 

thee  spread, 
Kept  from  thee    all    doubting,  darkness  and 

dread. 

"My  peace  like  a  river"  flowed  into  thy  soul, 
Keeping  the  deep  waters  under  control. 
Causing  thy  heart  to  be  glad  and  rejoice 
While  waiting  to  hear  thy  messenger's  voice; 
But  first  God  took  baby  sister  away, 
While  you  tarried  here  another  short  day. 

She  uttered  a  prayer,  then  triumphantly  said  : 
'•I  see,  dearest  sister,  bright  forms 'round  my 

bed, 

An  angel  is  here  with  the  baby  I  love, 
Will  you  meet  me,  I'  m  going  to  heaven  above.'' 
The  Savior  himself  stood  loveingly  by, 
While  she  breathed   forth    her   life   without 

even  a  sigh. 


Distant  Murmurs. 

Hark!  what  is  that  sound? 

Borne  on  the  southern  breeze. 
List  to  its  echoes  now, 

Breathing  through  orange  trees. 
'Tis  the  voice  of  loved  ones 

Gone  from  us  afar, 
To  fight  for  our  freedom, 

Our  stripes  and  our  stars. 

Oh,  many  a  heart  string 

Is  vibrating  now. 
And  throbbing  with  anguish 

For  loved  ones  laid  low. 
And  many  a  hearth-stone 

Is  dreary  and  lone, 
For  husband  and  father 

Friends — brothers  are  gone. 

Potomac's  bright  waters 

Flow  gently  along. 
Not  deigning  to  chant 

A  funeral  song, 
For  the  brave  ones  who  fought 

And  bled  by  her  side, 
For  the  brave  of  our  land 

Our  brothers  who-died . 

A  low  murmur  comes 

From  mountain  and  sea 
From  far  distant  hill-tops 

From  wild  Tennessee. 
"Tis  a  murmur  of  sorrow, 

'Tis  liberty's  moan, 
Oh  God  save  our  country 

For  freedom,  they  groan. 


Whence  corueth  that  sound 

Now  flung  to  the  breeze 
From  cities  and  towns 

Through  tall  forest  trees? 
"J'is  the  voice  of  the  people 

Now  shouting  aloud, 
Three  cheers  for— Abe  Lincoln 

The  honest  and  good  !, 


Lullaby, 

The  sunlight  is  fading, 

The  night's  coming  on, 
The  shadows  are  falling, 
The  daylight  is  gone. 
Hushaby,  hushaby,  sink  into  sleep; 
Angels  around  thee  their  kind  vigils  keep! 

Thy  feet  have  been  running 

So  swiftly  all  day, 
Like  summer  clouds  chasing 

Each  other  away. 
Hushaby,  hushaby,  baby  so  sweet, 
Till  morning  hours  hasten  our  darling  to 
greet. 

God's  blessing  attend  thee, 

And  guard  thee  from  harm; 
His  arm  to  defend  thee, 
No  fears  need  alarm. 
Hushaby,  hushaby,  angels  shall  keep 
Watch  o'r  my  little  one — sleep,  gently  sleep. 


16 


The  Open  Gate  to  the  Twentieth 
Century, 

Sisters,  see  the  warning  light, 
As  the  years  pass  from  our  sight: 
"Tis  a  century's  dying  gleam. 
Passing  from  us  like  a  stream 
Of  golden  sunlight,  bright 
And  beautiful  with  deeds  of  right; 
All  the  clouds  have  rolled  awav. 
See  the  dawn  of  coming  day. 

Grant  us  courage,  Lord,  to  wait 
To  see  the  century  ope  its  gate; 
Let  us  riot  falter  by  the  way, 
But  lead  us  to  victory  day  by  day; 
That  cry  new  heard  on  every  hand, 
For  God  and  home  and  native  land1: 
Our  work  of  love  so  world-renowned, 
Will  then  by  God  be  glory  crowned. 

Hear  the  sound  of  little  feet! 
Hear  the  songs  of  joy  that  greet! 
Babyhood  stands  here  to-day, 
Asking  us  to  clear  the  way 
For  their  tender  feet  to  tread 
Whereso'er  our  feet  have  led: 
For  the  children  now'we  plead. 
Help  us,  Lord,  to  gent'y  lead. 

Then  when  victory  shall  be  ours, 
"When  with  songs  and  blooming  flowers 
We  shall  celebrate  the  day, 
That  for  which  we  toil  and  pray, 
Children's  children  then  shall  lead, 
This  will  be  joy  indeed; 
And  their  thoughts  will  often  be, 
Grandma  prayed  for  victory. 


Onward  move  with  tears  and  pain, 
For  our  toil  is  not  in  vain; 
Ye  that  labor  in  the  Lord, 
Shall  receive  a  just  reward; 
Fourteen  years — how  short  the  time! 
Brother  haste,  fall  into  line; 
Sister  do  not  fail  to  see 
The  dawning  of  a  century. 
LAIXGSBUBG,  July  30th,  1886. 


Spring, 


Spring  has  come!   I  feel  its  breath 

Touching  every  living  thing, 
Waking  as  if  from  sleep  of  death, 

Heart  and  voice  with  gladness  sing. 

0,  I  love  the  merry  spring, 

With  its  beauties  ever  new, 
And  the  tiny  blades  of  grass 

Richly  gemmed  with  morning  dew; 

And  the  little  sparkling  rills, 

Murmuring  sweetly  as  they  flow — 

These  I  love  and  sloping  hills, 

Wrhere  bright  golden  blossoms  groAV. 

I  love  the  shady  woodland  dell 

Where  grows  the  bright  forget-me-not- 
In  whispers  soft  it  seems  to  say, 

lister,  thou'rt  not  forgot. 

There  the  humble  violet  blooms, 

And  the  lilly  of  the  valley— 
These  all  in  gentle  accents  teach 

A  lesson  of  humility. 


18  ^ ^ 

Bain. 

Welcome,  welcome,  gentle  rain 
We  have  waited  long  in  vain 
For  thy  cool  refresh ing^showers, 
To  revive  the  drooping  flowers. 

Greatfully  our  thoughts  arise 
For  this  favor  from  the  skies; 
(.'an  it  be  that  angels  weep, 
Or  comes  it  from  the  mighty  deep.  . 

We  will  not  the  mystery  solve, 
But  gladry  let  our  thoughts  revolve 
Around  the  source  of  every  good 
And  perfect  gift  bestowed. 

.Then,  patter,  patter,  gentle  rain, 
We  love  to  hear  thy  soothing  strain, 
The  tender  grass,  flowers,  fruit  and  grain. 
All  gladly  welcome  thee  again. 

A  Koyal  Gift, 

Cold  water,  cold  water,  the  gift  of  a  King, 
Why  may  we  not  drink  it,  be  happy  and  sing'.' 
It  gives  pleasure  to  youth,  and  also  lo  age, 
We  read  of  its  fame  on  every  fair  page. 
Cold  water,  cold  water,  the^gift  of  a  King, 
Let  us  all  drink  it — be  happy  and  sing. 

It  gleams  bright    with  joy,    and  healing  it 

brings, 
Our  voices  will  tune,  and  its  praise  we  will 

sing- 
Ever  grateful  to  thee,  our  Father  above, 
For  giving  so  freely  this  gift  of  thy  love. 
Oold  water,  cold  water,  the  gift  of  a  King, 
Let  us  all  drink  it — be  happy  and  sing. 


.^o  freely  the  stream  of  salvation  is  flowing 
For  all  who  will  drink  of  its  life-giving  spring: 
It  flows  to  all  nations,  'tis  flowing  for  thee. 
Ami  it  reaches  far  out  to  the  isles  of  the  sea. 
The  water  of  life — the  t.ift  of  a^  King, 
Let  us  all  drink  ity  be  happy  and  sing. 


The  Oup  of  Life, 

Is  this  thy  loving  hand 

That  holds  life's  cup: 
Shall  I,  the  erring  one, 

Drink  it  all  up? 
I  see  beneath  its  depths 

Sparkles  of  joy  am' 
And  happiness  on  earth 

Akin  to  that  above. 

Rainbow  hues  of  mercy 

Blend  their  colors  bright. 
But  ah,  within  its  depths 

I  see  the  hue  of  night. 
Father  shall  I  refuse 

To  take  this  oup 
And  with  thy  strength'ning  hand 

Drink  it  all  up? 

Help  me  each  passing  hour 

Firmly  to  stand 
And  hold  life's  mingled  cup 

With  steady  hand. 
We  know  a  Father's  hand 

Fills  to  the  brim 
With  what  is  best  for  us  — 

Then  trust  in  him. 


In  Memory  of  the  Heroic  Dead, 

«—      —*-- 

Scatter  the  flowers  over  the  graves 

Of  our  true  and  brave-hearted  dead, 
The  grass  of  the  valley  over  them  w:r, 

Bright  with  the  beams  the  morning  sun  shed : 
Ve>,  scatter  the  blossoms,  emblems  <~,f  love. 

Felt  for  the  casket  enshrined  in  the  tomb, 
The  jewel  is  safe  with  its  Maker  above, 

While    we    walk  alone  'mid    shadows    and 
gloom. 

Lightly,  tread  lightly,  over  the  dead. 

And  scatter  the  flowers  hands  of  lo*e  have 

prepared, 
God  will  treasure  the  tears  you  silently  shed, 

For  by  Him  all  our  feelings  of  sorrow  are 

shared: 
In  mercy  we  know  our  cup  oft  is  filled, 

The  bitter  and  sweet  eft  mingling  in  one — 
If  God  holds  the  cup,  not  one  drop  is  spilled, 

For  in  love  He  chastens  his  soi  rowing  ones. 

God  grant  that  our  nation'Tiever  ajain 

May    call    for   her  sons  o'er  mountain  and 

strand. 

To  fight  for  our  freedom,  our  victories  to  gain, 
And  lay  down  their  lives  for  our  dear  native 

land; 
Peace  reigns  in  our  borders — in    peace   with 

the  world. 

In  union  with  all  may  our  nation  long  dwell, 
May  our  banner  now  rolled  be  never  unfurled, 
Except  over  wrong,  our  triumph  to  tell. 


Treasures  of  Earth. 


Tiny  little  treasures, 

God  has  to  us  given, 
Precious  little  gems, 

Brighten  them  for  Heaven; 
Sweetest  little  buds, 

Gently  ope  their  leaves 
And  rear  the  little  flowerets, 

To  deck  the  Master's  sheaves. 

Stars  of  hope  and  beauty. 

Shining  in  our  home, 
Little  rays  of  sunlight, 

Making  light  the  gloom; 
dew  drops  bright  and  pearly, 

Keeping  fresh  our  love, 
Jewels  that  may  glisten 

In  our  crowns  above. 

Who  will  buy  these  treasures? 

No  buyer  need  10  come 
With  miseis  horaded  measurs 

Or  all  the  wealth  of  Rome; 
For  only  can  the  angels 

Come  and  carry  them  away. 
To  dwell  with  Jesus  ever 

In  happiness  alway. 


22 

Our  Harvest  Song. 

Tune,  "Wait  for  ihe  wagon." 

Come,  thrust  in  now  the  sickle, 

The  grain  is  ripeninjr  t:i>-t, 
The  summer  sun  is  shining, 

And  sleeping  is  the  hla-t. 
Come,  hast  thee,  noble  farmer, 

And  gird  thee  for  the  toil, 
God  smileth  on  your  1  ihnrs — 

Fruit  springeth  from  the  soil. 

CHonrs 

Work  for  the  harvest,    work  for  the  harvest, 
Work  for  the  harvest,  all  ye  sons  of  toil. 

The  golden  grain  is  waving, 

How  lov<  ly  'tis  to  see; 
How  glorious  are  these  summer  gifts 

God  giveth  unto  thee: 
Then  gird  thee  for  the  harvest, 

Nor  think  the  day  too  1  >ni, 
But  cheeifully  and  pleasantly 

Oft  cheer  your  toil  with  s»ng. 

Work  for  the  harvest,  &c. 

Go  work  ye  in  my  vineyard, 

The  Master  calls  to-day — 
The  fields  are  now  whitening, 

No  longer  then  delay; 
For  soon  the  Master  cometh 

To  gather  in  the  sheaves. 
And  pluck  the  ripening  clusters 

From  'mid  the  fal  ing  leaves, 

Work  for  the  harvest.  &c. 


We  think  we  see  the  dawning 

Of  that  bright,  glorious  day, 
When  all  life's  golden  harvests 

Are  safely  stowed  away; 
Angels  shall  join  the  chorus, 

Of  that  glad,  "welcome  home," 
Where  heavenly  joys  are  wailing 

The  harvesters  to  come. 

Work  for  the  harvest,  &c- 


Thanksgiving  Song. 

O  how  the  hymn  we  raise 
Filled  with  a  nation's  praise, 

Our  notes  prolong. 
With  one  united  voice 
Let  all  our  hearts  rejoice, 
Author  of  all  our  joys, 

Accept  our  song. 

The  harvest  sun  has  smiled, 
The  hand  of  God  has  filled 

With  gifts  of  love. 
We  thank  thee  for  thy  Son, 
Our  Savior,  king  in  one, 
The  victory  he  has  won 

He  reigns  above. 

Our  banners  now  are  furled 
In  peace  with  all  the  world 

Our  nation  stands. 
Long  may  our  eagle  s  flight 
All  glori»us  and  bright,    '* 
Be  on  the  side  of  right  — 

God  bless  our  land  ! 


2* 

Fifty  Tears  Ago, 

Fifty  years  asro  to-dny, 

Love  stretched  her  wand  and  showed  (he  way 

Tlmt  you  should  walk  through  life  together, 

'Til  death  those  bonds  of  love  should  sever. 

You  gaily  walked  a-down  life's  path 

()  re  fields  of  joy  with  many  a  laugh 

At  thorns  and  cares,  that  checked  thy  way, 

Yet  brought  you  to  this  Golden  day. 

Fifty  years  of  joy  and  sorrows, 

Lo.  king  towards  the  gUrt  to-morrows, 

Thnt  ever  comes  to  hopeful  s^uls 

J*P  surely  as  ihe  sea  wave  rolls 

From  shore  to  sbnre — so  you 

With  flowers  of  Hope  and  Love  80  true. 

Have  patiently  toiled  along  the  way, 

And  lived  to  see  this  Golden  day. 

Fifty  years — have  passed  awny, 
And  many  mile-stones  by  the  way 
Have  marked  the  eras  of  wood  and  tin, 
And  where  the  silver  age  begins, 
But  now  you've  reached  the  golden  stage. 
Fi  led  with  histories  of  life's  fair  page; 
Pure  as  crystal  may  the  memories  be, 
Thrilling  your  hearts  with  their  melody. 

Fifty  years — no  children  then, 
Now  they  number  only  twelve, 
Grown  to  man  and  womanhood, 
*Nobly  through  life's  storms  have  stood, 
But  on  this  eventful  day 
Their  children -'round  thy  armchair  play, 
O're  the  past  a  shadow  rests, 
Three  are  numbered  with  the  blest. 


Oh  Golden  day!  Oh!  Golden  year. 
Rich  the  treasures  that  you  bear, 
Not  golden  gifts  alone  we  bring, 
But  children's  voices  sweetly  sing 
The  thoughts  our  lips  refuse  to  tell, 
With  gratitude  our  bosoma  swell 
To  God— the  giver  of  all  good, 
Who  by  your  side  has  ever  stood. 

And  still  will  lead — 'til  one  by  one 
You  pass  away — your  work  well  done* 
Then  on  that  bright  and  Golden  shfire 
Where  loved  ones  meet  to  part  no  more. 
This  happy  group  again  you'll  find, 
For  love  each  golden  link  will  bind; 
Eternity  alone  will  tell, 
Your  record — "All  is  well." 


Grandma's  Christmas  Song, 

Children  henr  the  merry  bells 
Ringing  over  hill  and  dell 

Telling  us  of  Jesus; 
Telling  us  the  story  old, 
Once  by  happy  angels  told, 

Of  the  infant  Jesus. 

Bring  your  gifts  and  join  the  chorus, 
Bring  a  wreath  of  love  to  Jesus; 

Give  your  hearts  to  Jesus, 
Praise  him,  love  him,  serve  him  too 
This  the  work  for  you  to  do, 

Work  for  loving  Jesus, 


26  ^ 

Go  Work  in  My  Vineyard, 

Ln borers  of  Christ,  arise  ! 
And  j>ird  thee  for  the  toil, 
Look  ye  upon  the  field. 
All  ready  is  the  soil, 
fio  scatter  forth  the  seed, 
In  every  favored  spot: 
Let  not  the  distant  corners 
Of  the  vineyard  be  forgot, 

Faint -hearted,  weary,  worker, 
No  longer  drooping  go. 
Renew  your  strength  in  God. 
Arise,  begin  to  sow; 
Untold  the  snowy  napkin 
From  talents  hidden  there, 
Go  use  them  f  >r  the  Master, 
Within  his  garden  fair. 

When  the  dews  of  early  morning, 

Silently,  softly,  weep, 

Or  evening.s  gentle  zephyrs 

Lull  the  bright  flowers  to  sleep, 

Still  labor  for  thy  Master; 

Earnestly  toil  and  wait; 

lh en  gather  thy  bundle  of  sheaves 

To  lay  at  the  Master's  gate. 

For.  soon  the  angel  reapers, 
Will  gather  the  harvest,  home, 
And  songs  of  joy  will  welcome 
The  weary  ones  10  come. 
Go  forth;  the  Mater  calleth, 
Go:  for  the  field  is  white, 
Go:  for  the  willing  worker 
Is  well  pleasing  in  his  sight, 


27 


Coming. 


The  glorirous  time  is  coming 
When  Christ  the  king  of  kings, 
Shall  with  the  holy  angels 
Make  the  whole  welkin  rin?; 
For  Christ  our  Lnrd  is  coming, 
The  victory  Fie  has  won, 
And  now  as  king  in  glory 
He'll  sit  upon  His  throne. 

Our  glorious  king  is  coming, 
Coming  with  pomp  and  power, 
Coming  with  the  holy  angels, 
We  may  see  Him  any  hour 
The  signs  of  prophecy  are  ending, 
Yes,  the  latter  day  is  near; 
Christian,  is  your  lamp  now  burning 
For  the  bridegroom  to  appear? 

r  Yes,  our  dearest  Lord  is  coming, 
\Joming  as — he  went  above — 
So  in  clouds  of  light  drcending, 
He  will  welcome  those  He  loves — 
Will  you  give  a  joyous  welcome — 
To  this  Christ— our  Lord  and  King, 
Will  you  with  the  angelic  chorus, 
Notes  of  victory  sweeny  sing  ? 

Then  remember— now  'tis  dawning 
That  blest  time  for  which  we  wait — 
Labor  on — 'til  His  appearing, 
Toiling  early — toiling  late, 
Then  when're  the  trumpet  soundeth, 
Though  it  call  for  you  to  come. 
You  can  give  a  joyous  welcome 
To  the  sound  that  calls  you  home. 


In  Memoriam. 


The  young  and  the  gifted 

Must  pass  from  oar  earth, 
For  God  would  give  them 

A  far  higher  birth; 
In  that  land  where  all 

Is  lovely  and  bright, 
And  no  torturing  pain 

The  spirit  can  blight. 

Where  the  mind  can  expand 

And  the  fancy  take  flight. 
And  revel  in  wonder 

Amid  realms  of  light; 
And  the  voice  with  angels 

Keeps  ever  in  tu»e. 
For  the  heart  will  keep  young 

Where  'tis  always  noon. 

Shed  tears,  then,  dear  mother. 

For  thy  gifted  boy; 
But  let  not  thy  grief 

Thy  peace  destroy. 
Look  upward  to  Jesus, 

0,  children  of  God  ! 
Keep  close  to  His  side, 

Passing  under  the  rod. 

O,  the  wonderful  meeting 

Of  loved  ones  in  heaven, 
When  all  of  earth's  ties 

By  God  have  been  riven! 
Be  patient,  then,  dear  ones. 

For  soon  it  will  come, 
The  thrice  welcome  signal 

That  calleth  us  home. 


Willing  Workers, 


IIo  !  workers  in  Christ's  vineyard. 

Prepare  the  soil  to-day, 
Well  water  it  with  tears, 

And  dont  forget  to  pray. 
For  soon  the  Master  cometh, 

His  laborers  to  review, 
According  to  thy  labor 

Thy  wages  will  be  due. 

But  if  you  longer  tarry 

And  loiter  by  the  way 
Until  the  golden  sunlight 

Shall  shed  its  lingering  ray 
Upon  the  pile  of  sheaves 

By  other  reapers  brought, 
While  ihou,  Oh!  trembing  soul 

Hath  toiled  for  naught. 

What  wouldst  thou  do   Oh,  christain, 

If  the  Master  then  should  come 
And  sound  the  well-known  signal 

Of  welcome  harvest  home  ? 
When  each  will  give  his  record 

Of  good  he  has  done  here; 
Wilt  thou  stand  idly  sighing, 

Thy  record  only  tears  ? 

Up,  up,  then   Christian  worker, 

E're  it  be  too  late 
To  gather  a  bundle  of  sheaves 

To  lay  at  the  Master's  gate. 
Faint,  yet  still  persuing, 

Let  this  our  motto  be 
Wherever  the  Master  calls 

A  willing  worker  be. 


Song  o£The  Autumn  Leaves. 

List  to  the  song  of  the  autumn  leaves 
As  they  fall  at  the  touch  of  the  evening 

breeze; 

'Tis  the  saddest  songoftheyearthey  sing, 
Telling  us  time  is  on  the  wing; 
That  swiftly  passeth  the  summer  hours. 
The  wild  bird's  song,  the  blooming  flowers 
And  the  song  of  the  leaves  as  they  softly 

fall, 

Tell  us  that  winter  will  come  to  us  all; 
The  song  of  the  leaves  as  they  fall  to  the 

ground 

Tell  us  in  a  soft  and  melancholy  sound 
That  spring  time  is  gone  and  summer  in 

ended, 
The  crimson  and  gold  with  brown  are 

blended; 

Then  roses  bloomed  on  the  garden  walks. 
Now  naught  is  there  but  withered  stalks: 
List  to  the  song  which  the  leaflets  sing, 
Up  yonder,  'twill  be  eternal  spring; 
Beneath  the  leaf  a  germ  is  hidden, 
A  new  life  starts  from  its  stem  unbidden, 
The  dead  leaf  falls  and  the  new  leaf  comes 
Bidding  us  hope  for  eternal  bloom; 
Within  us  lives  an  immortal  part, 
Filling  the  casket  with  soul  and  heart; 
A  life  giving  impulse  to  us  is  given, 
It  thrills  with  the  thought  we  shall  live  in 

heaven. 

Life  let  us  enjoy  through  winter  and  spring 
Cheering  our  lives  with  the  song  \\e  sing: 
Like  the  leaf  let  us  do  our  own  little  part, 
And  send  the  blood  tingling  to  some  sor- 
rowing heart, 


Making  them  grow  and  thrive  like  the  trees 
So  we  in  our  turn  may  be  ministering 

leaves; 
Then  the  song  of  the  leaves  as th ey  gently 

Fall, 
Will  sing  only  of  hope  and  joy  to  us  all. 


The  Rose  of  Prohibition. 

Higher,  Higher  let  us  climb, 
Up  to  yonder  hights  sublime, 
For  our  cause,  oh,  God  is  thine, 
The  cause  of  Prohibition. 

Like  the  Alpine  traveler  da  -e 
To  reach  the  Edeileiss  so  r  re, 
Who  would  not  this  fiowei  t  wear? 
The  rose  of  Prohibit  )n. 

Purity  and  hope — we  see, 
Emblem,  God,  of  life  in  th  e; 
Help  us  to  gain  the  victor  -, 
The  seige  of  Prohibition. 

Grasp  the  tiny  floweret  tight, 
Tie  with  ribbon  purest  white. 
Thus  the  W.  C.  T.  U.  unite 
With  final  Prohibiton. 


32 

The  Rift  In  The  Clouds, 


So  long  the  clouds  of  sorrow 

H;is  darkened  all  our  land, 
Shading  o'er  the  sunlight 

Of  many  household  bands. 
So  long  the  cry  of  anguish 

Has  filled  our  hearts  with  grief 
As  woman's  cry  and  infant's  moan 

Appealed  for  sweet  relief, 
Our  hearts  and  eyes  are  heavy, 

We  cannot  see  the  light, 
Although  between  the  cloudlets 

There  is  a  rift  so  bright. 

Help  us  Oh!  God  of  heaven 

To  see  the  coming  dawn; 
Cheer  up  desponding  hearts 

So  weary  and  forlorn. 
Help  us  to  watch  for  signals 

Of  victory,  in  the  air 
Helpus  to  pray  with  courage, 

Help  us  to  do  and  dare. 
For  God;  the  God  of  victory 

Is  leading  on  the   hosts 
Of  temperance  men  and^w.oraen 

Our  country's  pride  a'nd  boast. 

Once  more  the  cry  of  battle 

Falls  on  our  ears  to-day, 
Go  forth,  ye  Christian  manhood, 

Vote  for  our  homes,  we  pray. 
Let  not  the  evil  conquor 

Clasp  brothers  hands  to-day 
Unitedly  to  labor 

Till  right  shall  win  the  day. 


The  women  still  are  praying 
With  hearts  filled  with  delight 

For  Oh!  we  see  amid  the  clouds 
A  little  rift,  so  bright. 


"Abba  Father." 

"Abba  Father,"  hear  my  c;y, 
Let  me  feel  thee  ever  nigh, 
Feel  thy  loving  arms  entwining: 
Feel  thy  hand  forever  guiding. 
Fa'her,  let  me  be  thy  child, 
M^ke  me  humble,  pure  and  mild. 

Heavenly  Father,  take  thy  child 
Out  of  sin's  dark,  drearj  wild: 
We,  alas;  our  sins  confessing, 
Would  receive  thy  fullest  blessing. 
Love,  and  peace,  and  joy  divine. 
Would  be  Lord,  entirely  thine, 

"Abba  Father,''  sweet  the  thought. 
By  the  blood  of  Jesus  bought, 
Love  divine  all  love  excelling: 
We  thy  gift  of  love  receiving 
Would  thy  happy  children  be 
Here  and  through  Eternity. 


A  Winter  Scene, 

Jack  frost  has  been  out 

Or  a  frolic  all  night, 
A  IK  lo!  what  a  change 

Biings  the  morning  light; 
The  trees  are  all  covered 

"W  it  h  a  net  work  so  bright. 
Thty  quiver  and  laugh 

(  'er  their  new  found  delight; 
F  om  each  crispy  stem 

Hangs  a  sparkling  gem, 
A  »  bright  as  the  stars; 

In  night's  diadem 
<  'an  we  find  any  trace 

Of  sadness  here? 
Prom  each  glistening  leaf 

Falls  a  silent  tear; 
But  hark!   notes  of  joy 

Now  fall  on  my  ear, 
Tis  the  robin  rejoicing 

Tha.t  spring  is  so  near; 
Jack  Frost's  nimble -fingers 

Must  hasten  to  weave 
These  bright  scenes  of  joy 

That  no  traces  leave; 
But,  spring,  welcome  spring, 

Her  sweet  balmy  breath, 
Bequeaths  to  the  flowers 

A  perfume  in  death; 
So  farewell  chilly  winter 

Thy  pleasures  decay; 
Fit  emblem  of  life, 

It  is  fading  away. 


''I  am  weary  of  waiting," 

Said  an  aged,  dying  one, 
"1  am  weary  of  waiting 

For  Jesus  to  come. 
I  am  treading  the  valley. 

But  Oh!  not  alone, 
For  Jesus  is  leading  me 

Safe  to  ray  home. 

>VI  am  weary  of  waiting — 

So  long  seems  the  way — 
The  messenger  tarrieth — 

Oh!  why  the  delay? 
1  am  weary  of  watching 

The  shadows  at  play, 
I  long  for  the  sunlight 

Of  Heaven's  pure  day. 

"I  long  to  be  praising 

In  raptures  so  sweet — 
i  am  longingly  waiting 

The  summons  to  meet. 
I  long  to  be  resting 

At  Jesus'  feet, 
Forevermore  joining 

In  anthems  so  sweet. 

"'I  long  to  be  standing 

Near  the  Golden  Throne. 
And  feeling  at  last 

I  am  really  at  home. 
There,  crowning  my  Saviour 

With  glory,  alone, 
Singing  praise  -forever 

At  "home,  sweet  home." 


A  Child's  Faith  in  Jesus. 

1  cannot  go  to  Sabbath  school 

To  sing  with  them  today, 
For  the  angels  they  are  beckoning 

And  calling  me  away. 
I  know  'tis  Jesus  calling 

i:'in  not  afraid  to  go 
For  you  know  you  told  me  mother 

That  Jt  sus  loved  me  so. 

Then  tell  my  little  schoolmates. 

I  cannot  come  today 
To  join  their  festive  pleasures 

So  happy,  blithe  and  gay, 
But  tell  them  "I  love  Jesus 

To  Him  I'll  surely  go," 
For  you  know  you  told  me  mother 

That  Jesus  loved  me  so. 


The  Summer  Land, 


A  mother  told  her  story 
Of  the  treasures  God  had  given; 

Two  had  grown  to  manhood, 
Two  had  gone  to  heaven, 

In  the  Summer  Land. 

'Twas  right,"  she  said,  "the  Saviour 

Had  carried  them  away; 
In  fairest,  greenest  pastures, 

Forever  they  will  stay, 

In  the  Summer  Land." 

Oh,  who  can  tell  the  glory 
That  breaks  upon  their  sight— 

What  hights  and  depths  of  knowledge 
Shall  fill  them  with  delight, 
In  the  Summer  Land. 

We  lisannot  speak  the  measure, 
Of  peace  and  love  they  feel; 

We  cannot  speak  the  wonder 
Of  joys  that  o'er  them  steal. 
In  the  Summer  Land. 

Yes,  they  gaze  upon  the  Saviour, 
Beauties  they  have  not  known 

Shall  fill  their  souls  with  rapture; 
In  him  is  heaven  alone, 

In  the  Summer  Land. 

There  we  shall  meet  our  loved  ones, 
Here  we  must  patiently  wait, 

Gntil,  with  joy,  they  greet  us 
At  heaven's  open  gate, 

Ih  the  Summer  Land. 


38 

Fifty  11  Years  Ago. 

Fifty  years  ago  to-day. 

Love  stretched  her  wand  and  showed  tlu- 
way. 

That  you  should  walk  through  life  to- 
gether, 

'Til  death  those  bonds  of  love  should 
sever. 

You  gaily  walked  a-down life's  path. 

O'er  fields  of  jo,y  with  many  a  laugh; 

At  thorns  and  cares,  that  checked  the  way 

Yet,  brought  you  to  this  Golden  day. 

Fifty  years  of  joys  and  sorrows. 
Looking  towards  the   glad  to-morrows. 
That  ever  comes  to  hopeful  souls; 
As  surely  a«  the  sea  wave  rolls 
From  shore  to  shore — so  you 
With  flowers  of  Hope  and  Love  so  tru*-, 
Have  patiently  toiled  along  the  way. 
And  lived  to  see  this  Golden  day. 

Fifty  years— have  passed  away, 

And  many  mile-stones  by  the  way 

Have  marked  the  eras  of  wood  and  tin. 

And  where  the  silver  age -begins. 

But  now  you've  reached  the  golden  stag*- 

Filled  with  histories  of  life's  fair  page; 

Pure  as  crystal  may  the  memories  IH\ 

Thrilling  your  hearts  with  their  melody. 

Fifty  years— no  children  then, 

Now  they  number  only  twelve, 

Grown  to  man  and  womanhood, 

Nobly  through  life's  storms  have  stood. 

But  on  this  eventful  day 

Their  children  'round  thy  armchair  play: 


_  39 

O'er  the  past  a  shadow  rests, 
Three  are  numbered  with  the  blest. 

Oh  Golden  day!  Oh,  Golden  year, 
Rich  the  treasures  that  you  bear, 
Not  golden  gifts  alone  we  bring, 
But  children's  voices  sweetly  sing 
The  thoughts  our  lips  refuse  to  tell, 
With  gratitude  our  bosoms  swell 
To  God—  the  giver  of  all  good, 
Who  by  your  side  has  ever  stood. 

And  still  will  lead—  'til  one  by  one 
You  pass  away  —  your  work  well  done, 
Then  on  that  bright  and  Golden  shore, 
Where  loved  ones  meet  to  part  no  more, 
This  happy  group 
ch 


For  love  each  golden  link  will  bind, 
Eternity  alone  will  tell, 
Your  record  —  ''All  is  well." 


40 

Victory  Over  Death. 

Gently  fades  the  setting  sun, 
Another  Sabbath  day  is  gone; 
Twilight  deepens  into  gloom, 
Silence  reigns  within  the  room, 
For  the  angels-near  are  hovering, 
And  a  mother  dear  is  dying, 
She  is  almost  home. 

"Yes.  I  know  I'm  going  home, 
And  the  angels  soon  will  come. 
Yes,  I  hear  the  chariot  wheel, 
And  the  chill  of  death  I  feel. 
My  feet  have  touched  the  narrow  stream. 
Oh,  how  short  the  journey  seems— 
I  am  nearer  home." 

''Oh,  why  tamest  thou  my  Lord? 
I  have  trusted  in  thy  word, 
Even  in  my  childhood's  years 
I  mourned  for  sin  with  bitter  tears; 
Jesus  I  love  thee;  stand  by  me, 
Through  death  itself  my  refuge  be, 
Come  take  me  home". 

"Jesus,  I'm  coming,  coining,  come; 
Dear  angels  take  me  home; 
The  pea.rly  gates  I  soon  shall  see, 
The  tree  of  life  now  blooms  for  me, 
Fountains  of  love  for  me  are  flowing. 
Over  the  river  soon  I'm  going, 
Yres,  I'm  going  home/'. 

"Father,  Mother,  Alice  wait, 
I  soon  shall  see  the  open  gate, 
Sister  and  neighbors  don't  forget 
The  friend  you  loved;  without  regret 


41 


1  bid  my  husband,  children  dear, 
A  kind  farewell,  without  a  tear. 
Happy,  happy  home." 

uSoon  the  struggle  will  be  o'er! 
Soon  I'll  reach  the  other  shore, 
Angel  voices  now  are  praising, 
Sing,  my  friends,  the  echo  raising, 
Jesus,  with  ray  latest  breath, 
I'll  shout— Victory  over  Death. 

Home,  yes,  sweet,  sweet  honu 


Tennie, 


Many  years  have  passd  away, 

Since  Tennie  drooped  and  died. 
And  yet  it  seems  but  yesterday, 

We  laid  her  by  the  side. 
Of  her  aarling  little  one; 

Who  just  awhile  before, 
Upon  an  angel's  bosom 

Entered  the  open  door. 

How  beautiful  the  morning, 

How  brightly  shone  the  sun; 
When  Tennie  said,  "Im  going, 

My  earthly  work  is  done, 
How  long  1  have  been  waiting. 

Slowly  wasting  away; 
Waiting  to  hear  the  summons, 

'Come  child  from  earth  away.'  " 

E'en  than  the  light  of  Hearveu 
Shone  bright  upon  her  brow. 

She  felt  her  sins  forgiven, 
She  loved  her  savior  now. 


42 


Then  turning  to  the  man  of  God, 

Who  silently  sat  there, 
She  simply  murmured  "pray." 

And  solemn  was  the  prayer. 

'Only  one  crossing  now,  mother, 

Then  I'll  enter  the  open  door, 
And  see  my  own  sweet  darling, 

And  the  loved  ones  gone  before" 
When  writh  brightly  beaming  eye, 

And  gently  waning  breath, 
She  passed  away  so  silently, — 

How  blessed  such  a  death. 

So  trustingly  she  waited 

With  faith's  bright  beaming  eye; 
"Don't  cry,"  she  said,  "dear  mama, 

I'm  not  afraid  to  die, 
And  oh,  mama,  how  sweet  the  thought, 

The  door  is  open  wide, 
And  I  can  quickly  enter  in 

Upon  the  other  side," 


A  Living  Scroll. 

I  .shall  be  there  to  make  up  the  scroll. 

When  the  Lord  shall  call  for  his  o\vn: 
I  shall  answer  the  roll  call  of  Heaven, 

When  Jesus  shall  sit  on  his  throne. 
For  Jesus  has  written  my  name, 

So  plain  on  the  palm  of  his  hand; 
And  Jesus  will  know  me  I'm  sure, 

When  among  the  white  robed  I  stand 

Then  sing  children,  louder  to  me 

As  I  pass  o'er  the  flowing  tide! 
Perhaps  I  shall  hear  the  echo 

As  I  walk  on  the  other  side. 
Where  the  loved  ones  now  are  gathmnjr, 

I  hear  their  welcome  tone; 
They  make  me  feel  their  presence, 

I  know  I'm  not  alone. 

Sing:  "We  shall  gather  at  the  river, 

"Other  refuge  have  I  none; 
"I  shall  shine  as  the  stars  forever, 

"I  will  wait  till  my  change  come." 
Thus  sang  and  talked  our  mother, 

While  we  stood  weeping  by; 
Then  she  asked  us  to  sing  together, 

"Pass  me  not,"  and  "Sweet  bye  ,-unl 
bye." 

When  she  called  for  Nora  and  Viva, 

Prayed  God  to  bless  her  boys! 
Told  them  to  remember  children, 

And  gave  them  words  of  joy. 
Clasped  the  hand  of  loving  sisters, 

Took  a  farewell  look  of  home; 
Then  again  was  heard  the  whisper, 

I  can  wait!    The  Lord  had  come. 


Suffer  Them  to  Come, 


How  kindly  in  his  arms 

The  little  ones  he  took;  , 
He  pressed  them  to  his  heart 

And  words  of  kindness  spoke. 
While  proud  men  stood  around, 

And  wise  ones  questions  asked, 
Nor  ever  stopped  to  think 

That  he  was  overtasked. 
.Still  when  the  trembling  mother 

Brought  her  little  ones  from  home, 
He  kindly  on  her  smiled, 

Baying  "Suffer  them  to  come." 

[f  Jesus  when  on  earth 

And  burdened  with  our  sin, 
Could  open  wide  his  arms 

And  clasp  the  children  in, 
Shall  we  stand  coldly  by, 

With  ne'er  a  word  of  love, 
To  cheer  them  on  the  road, 

That  leads  to  joy  above? 
Rather  let  us  welcome  them 

To  share  our  heavenly  home, 
And  tell  them  of  the  Savior's  words, 

Saying  "Suffer  them  to  come." 


Jtp 
He  Giveth  His  Beloved,  Sleep, 

A  t  evening  when  her  work  was  done, 

She  dropped  her  earthly  dress; 
Trusting  alone  in  Jesus'  blood. 

And  his  own  righteousness; 
Then  closed  her  eyes  in  slumber  sweet. 

To  wake  at  early  dawn 
And  hear  the  welcome  summons. 

Come,  weary  child,  come  home. 

Surely  the  message  never  came 

To  one  so  glad  to  go; 
Her  cup  was  filled  with  bitterness. 

As  well  as  deepest  woe; 
Patiently  she  bore  it  all, 

Trusting  a  Father's  hand 
Would  lead  and  guide  the  weary  iV.-r 

To  our  Emanuel's  land. 

Sleep  011,  beloved  one,  sleep  on, 

No  earthly  sound  shall  wake. 
Or  mar  the  quiet  rest — 

Thy  suffering  body  takes. 
Thy  spirit  also  rests 

Upon  the  Savior's  breast: 
Oh,  may  we  meet  above, 

And  be  forever  blest. 


Not  a  Song  nor  a  Story 

We  wrote  a  rhyme,  a  jingling  thing, 
About  the  startling  points  of  spring. 
Wherein  we  spoke  of  what  we  loved. 
And  what,  perhaps,  our  anger  moved. 
'Twas  not  a  song — our  modest  pen 
Places  such  things,  above  our  ken; 
'Twas  just  a  puff  of  empty  air. 
Born  of  a  thought  and  perished  there. 

But.  ah!    how  oft  an  idle  thought, 
Expressed     in     words,    has     mischiel' 

wrought; 

So  ours  called  out  a  sharp  reproof, 
Which,  while  we  answer — stand  aloof. 
Spring  aru't  a  maid — its  of  the  year 
A  part,  which  brings  the  summer  here: 
And  though  it  has  its  pleasant  features. 
Ft  is    filled    with  the  most  disgusting 

creatures. 

And  yet,  forsooth,  if  one  can't  see 
A  heaven  within  a  lilac  tree; 
Fly  into  raptures  over  flowers, 
Or  dwell  in  amaranthine  bowers; 
Or  hear  the  sighs  and  sobs  of  spring. 
That  timid,  tearful  rt^ajd — poor  thing: 
Why,  he's  a  vain  and  foolish  man, 
And  wont  act  pretty  when  he  can. 

Now.  if  our  love  for  flowers  prevails,  '^ 
And    we  but  loath  toads,   snakes  and 

snails. 

Why  should  we  quarrel  with  the  man 
Who  cant  love  roses  as  we  can? 
Was  not  the  frog  and  flea  and  flower 
All  made  by  one  creative  power? 
Then  judge  not,  lest,  alas  you  be 
Found  wanting  quite  as  much  as  he. 


Be  Brave. 


"Sisters,  be  brave."  a  sweet  voice  said. 
While  lying  on  her  dying  bed; 
"Sisters,  be  brave,  and  dare  to  do 
The  work  I  long  have  wished  to  do." 
These  words  were  uttered  far  away, 
Where  daylight  holds  so  long  its  sway; 
Far,  far  above  these  mountain  tops 
When  evening  comes,  the  daylight  drops. 

Far  up  above  these  rocky  heights 
A  city  stands,  whose  twinkling  lights 
Tell  of  thousands  toiling  there, 
Exposed  to  sin's  most  wily  snare. 
For  these  she  wrought,  and  nobly  died, 
While  we  stood  firmly  at  her  side, 
Doing  her  bidding;  thus  she  led 
Until  we  saw  her  lying  dead. 

How  deep  the  grief  of  husband,  daughter; 
How  great  the  love  of  all  who  knew  her, 
But  none  more  faithful  kind  and  true, 
Than  sisters  of  the  C.  T.  U. 
Ring  out  the  words,  than,  o'er  the  land: 
To  every  W.  C.  T.  U.  band: 
''Sisters,  be  brave,  and  strive  to  do 
The  work  I  now  must  leave  to  you." 


Old.  Year  Farewell. 


Old  year,  farewell!  Thy  work  is  done: 

One  hour  alone  remains 
For  thee  to  tell  thy  tale;  but  one — 

But  one  alone  remains. 
On  silent  wings  thy  hours  have  flown. 

So  richly  freighted  o'er; 
Memory,  kindest  friend  alone, 

Can  cull  its  sweetest  flowers, 
And  lay  them  fresh  and  green  away 
To  cheer  our  hearts  another  dny. 

Old  year,  farewell!  Thy  race  is  run. 

And  ere  another  sun 
Shall  brighten  up  the  coming  dawn. 

The  newr  will  be  begun. 
Thy  fondest  smiles — thy  sweetest  tori^ 

Mingled  with  sorrow's  tears. 
On  Memory's  tablet,  there  alone, 

Laid  by  for  future  years, 
Will  come  unsought  some  other  day. 
To  tell  us  what  has  passed  away. 

Old  year,  farewell !   Thy  tolling  bell 

Will  soon  in  solemn  tones 
Proclaim  thy  funeral  knell — 

Thou  wilt,  alas,  b'e  gone. 
Earth's  loved  ones  only  linger  here 

Till  their  short  work  is  done; 
Then  why  should  thou,  old  dying  year. 

Sigh  to  leave  us  alone? 
We  too  will  soon  be  called  away. 
To  spend  a  long,  eternal  day. 

Old  year,  farewell!  The  minutes  haste. 

Quickly  thy  fleeting  breath— 
Tell  us  the  end  is  near;  at  last, 

'Tis  gone;  can  this  be  death? 


Farewell !  I  fain  would  linger  here 
To  breathe  a  silent  prayer ! 
He  thou,  0,  God,  our  guide  this  year- 
Shield  us  from  every  snare, 
He  thou  our  hope — make  bright  our  com- 
ing day, 

'Til    earthly  scenes  with  us  have  passed 
away.  • 


Waiting  For  Spring. 

The  cold  winds  of  winter 

Have  tarried  so  long, 
We  are  weary  of  waiting 

For  the  spring  to  come; 
The  winds  have  been  sighing 

A  requiem  low, 
Over  the  winter 

And  frosts  as  they  go. 

How  gladly  we  hail 

The  first  breathing  of  Spring, 
And  list  to  the  bird  notes 

Of  joy  as  they  sing; 
Hoping  still  hoping 

The  flowers  will  come, 
To  gladden  and  brigh  ten 

Our  earthly  home. 

The  winter  of  life, 

Ah!  soon  'twill  be  gone, 
The  spring  time  of  glory 

Then  surely  will  come. 
There  blossoms  of  love 

Will  eternally  spring, 
And  glad  songs  of  praise 

Forever  will  sing. 


50 

The  Blessed  Dead. 


They  died  at  their  post,  how  noblv  thev 

fell 

The  record  here  given  its  story  will  tell. 
They  through  the  heat  and  burden  of  day. 

*  Yet  cheerfully  worked-^-  not  forgetting  to 

pray 

That  God  who  unseen  is  watch  ing  o'er  all 
Would  hear  their  request,  and  the  seed  as 

it  falls, 

•  Has  been  watched  o'er  and  cared  for  by 

angel  hands, 

Who  do  at  his  bidding  the  work  he  com- 
mands, 

Through  trial  and  pain  they  have  finished 
their  toil 

And  deep  are  the  furrows  prepared  in  its 
soil. 

The  tears  they  shed— the  seed  they  have 
sown 

And  their  labors,  the  Master  surely  will 
own. 

The  deeds  they've  done — the  words  they 
have  spoken, 

Form  a  link  in  our  history  ne'er  to  be 
broken. 

Their  children  still  live,  and  by  services 
done 

Prove  that  faith  doth  descend  from  fath- 
er to  son. 

An  influence  felt,  though  by  us  unseen 

Keeps  their  love  in  our  hearts  and  their 
memories  green, 

May  their  mantle  of  toil  rest  upon  all 

And  their  charity  cover  us  each  like  a 
pall. 


Hiding'  the  faults   wlricli  in  each  we  shall 

find, 

Keeping  the  golden  rule  ever  in  mind, 
Children  of  God  go  work,  pray  and  wait 
Ever  keeping  a  bundle  of  sheaves  at  his 

gate 

Who  when  the  Master  shall  open  the  door 
Our  labors— shall  have  gone  on  before, 
When  he  shall  say— the  race  ye  have  run 
Accept  ye  the  crown — the  victory  won. 

Dollie, 


An  old  gray  mare  owned  by  Rev.  James 
McLeod,for  over  nineteen  years,  was  shot 
as  an  act  of  mercy  to  old  age— being  22 
years  old.  She  had  traveled  thousands 
of  miles  to  meetings,  weddings  and  funer- 
als.— Faithful  "Dollie"  goes  not  to  her 
grave  un-sung: 

A  faithful  servant's  work  is  done, 
No  more  beneath  the  burning  sun, 
Or  cruel  storm,  with  solemn  tread 
She'll  load  the  pathway  of  the  dead. 

No  more  with  cheerful, gentle  neigh , 
Stop  at  each  school  house  by  the  way; 
The  snow  falls  silently  over  her  grave — 
Where  the  summer  grass  will  gracefully 
wave. 

Still,  all  through  the  winter  and  sum- 
mer of  life, 

Although  weary  with  toil  and  worldly 
strife, 

Kind  memories  of  thee  will  cling  to  us 
as  yet; 

Thy  faithfulness,  Dollie,  we'll  never  for- 
get. 


A  Story— Or  Spring's  Appology. 

\V<>  sing1  of  Spring,  her  presence  to  woo, 
Little  thinking,  alas,  the  mischief  we'd  do; 
For  Spring,  timid  maiden,  shrank  back  in 

disgrace. 
And  for  many  a  day  would  not  show  her 

face; 
lint  thinking  the  bright  side  of  things  the 

best, 
She  smiled  through  her  tears,  then  with 

still  greater  zest 
The  sun  brightly  shone  so  loving  and 

warm, 
That  winter,  stern  winter,  fled  away  in 

alarm. 
.Vow  Spring,  tickle  maiden,  is  here  once 

again. 

And  myriad  voices  from  hillside  and  plain. 
f.n  their  fullness  of  joy,  sounds  forth  notes 

of  praise, 

But  vain,  foolish  man  has  no  song  to  raise 
In  token  of  love,  to  the  Creator  of  all, 
Who  seese'en  a  sparrow,  tho'  gently  it  fall! 
Shall  we,  then,  his  creatures,  refuse  thus 

to  sing, 
And  express  our  delight -at  thy  coming,  0, 

Spring? 
Though  long  I  have  waited,  I  come  with 

good  cheer, 
And  promise  and  plenty  throughout  the 

long  year; 
I    am  weaving  bright  garlands  hill  and 

valley  around, 
A nd  blossoms  are  scattered  all  over  the 

ground. 


My  work  I  am  doing,  though  silent  and 

slow — 
Then  keep  faithfully    sowing,  in  time   it 

will  grow; 
And  when  summer  has  come  and  spring 

work  is  done, 
Your  hearts  will  rejoice  at  the  harvest 

begUB, 

Home, 


Cozily  nestling  under  the  shade 

Of  the  tall  old  forest  trees, 
Where  the  su u be a.ms  bright 
Chase  the  shades  of  night, 

And  the  green  leaves  dance 
In  the  summer  breeze. 

Brightly    the     glancing    moonbeams 

quiver, 

And  the  sky  lamps  twinkling  shine, 
But  no  more  bright 
Ai-e  the  stars  of  night 
Th  in  one  casket  of  gems 
In  this  home  of  mine. 

Happily  then  in  this  home  of  ours, 
Time's  wing  richly  Weighted  with  joys 

Our  heart's  burden  light, 

No  shadow  of  niffht 
Can  mar  our  peace 
Or  our  pleasures  alloy. 

Joyfully  let  us  life's  chaplet  weave 
A  garland  tinged  o'er  with  love; 

If  earth  yields  such  sweets 

Oh,  what  rapture  complete 

Will  be  ours,  when  we  meet, 
In  yon  bright  home  above. 


54 


The  Story  of  the  Bells. 

Merrily  jingle  the  bells  to-day, 
Ringing  a  silvery  wedding  lay, 
For  25  years  have  passed  away 
Since  first  they  rang  on  a  wedding  day. 

Since  first  love  joined  your  hearts  to- 
gether, 

And  welded  them  well  they  have  clung 
together 

Through  all  kinds  of  scenes,  and  wintry 
weather, 

Never  to  part  on  earth — no,  never. 

Love  has  brightened  your  daily  path, 
And  children   are    sitting   around.yonr 

hearth 

Making  home  happy  with  joyous   laugh. 
Voices  of  song  and  careless  mirth. 

But  oh!  I  hear  through  the  silvery  tone 
The  bell  is  ringing,  a  saddened  moan; 
For  a  chair  is  sitting  all  alone; 
You  mourn  a  lovely  daughter  gone. 

The  years  have  gone,  another  bell 
Sounds  on  one's  ears,  a  funeral  knell, 
Our  father  lies  in  silence  there. 
Oh!  God  of  heaven,  our  burdens  bear. 

Help  us  to  hear  the  tolling  bell 
Of  time.    Its  story  tells 
Of  heaven— where  we  may  dwell 
Of  God,  who  doeth  all  things  well. 


55 

The  Bells  of  Time, 


Merrily  jingle  the  bells  of  time, 
Our  footsteps  keeping  perfect  time, 
As  onward  we  move  each  day  and  hour, 
Constantly  guarded  by  heavenly  power, 
Unseen  angels  around  us  shine  * 
With  heavenly  music  keeping  time. 
While  we  listen  in  vain  to  hear 
The  music  of  the  moving  spheres, 

We  only  hear  the  bells  of  time 
That  with  joy  and  sorrow  perfectly  rhyme, 
And  touch  our  hearts  with  keenest  smart, 
Or  make  them  thrill  with  joyous  dart. 
We  listen  with  joy  to  Sabbath  bells, 
And  christmas-tide  with  joyous  swells, 
But  sadness  sits  upon  each  brow; 
The  funeral  bell  is  tolling  now. 

Oh!  could  we  hear  those  bells  of  time. 
And  submissively  bow  to  the  will  divine, 
That  causes  to  vibrate  every  tone 
And  make  the  harmony  his  own. 
Can  you  not  trust  him,  dearest  friend, 
Who  causes  all  those  sounds  to  blend, 
And  watches  o'er  us  constantly, 
Mere  atoms  of  humanity? 

So  when  his  touch  but  jars  our  heartst 
Causing  the  bitter  tear  to  start, 
Because  he  saw  it  good  to  mo/e 
Some  object  of  our  dearest  love 
As  Nellie,  who,  in  the  midst  of  play, 
Silently  passed  from  earth  away. 
Let  us  listen  to  hear  the  call, 
Coming,  sooner  or  later,  to  us  all. 


My  Work  for  Jesus, 

Is  there  no  work  for  me 

Within  thy  vineyard.  Lord? 
Do  I  not  often  feel 

My  inmost  spirit  stirred? 
As  listening  I  bear  thy  voice. 

Go  work,  my  child,  to-day  " 
But  doubtingly  I  stand, 

Still  failing  to  obey. 
Why  is  it  that  my  eyes 

Seem  darkened— blind- 
Can  it,  dear  Lord,  be  true, 

That  I  no  work  can  find? 
No  wreath  for  me  to  twine 

To  deck  thy  brow, 
No  sheaf  for  me  to  bind, 

Down  at  thy  feet  to  throw. 
Some  silent  work  to  do, 

Unseen  except  by  thee 
Who  watches  o'er  the  deed, 

Expecting  fruit  from  me. 
Oh,  yes;  I'll  gather  leaves 

Wherever  they  are  blown 
And  twine  them  into  wreaths 

To  cheer  some  weary  one. 
I'll  work  in  hidden  corners 

Ruth-like  I  can  glean 
The  falling  stalks  of  grain 

By  others  left  unseen. 
I'll  search  among  the  vines; 

Clusters  lie  under  the  leaves; 
This  offering  1  can  bring, 

While  others  bind  the  sheaves. 
I'll  whisper  words  of  love, 

A  silent  influence  lend; 


57 


And  kindly  acts  perform, 

For  enemies  or  friends. 
I'll  tune  my  voice  to  notes 

Of  sweetest  song 
To  praise  thee,  as  I  live 

And  labor  on. 
But  if  my  voice  is  silent, 

And  unstrung  my  lute, 
I'll  make  my  thoughts  and  pen 

A  willing  substitute 
In  winning  souls  to  Christ, 

In  service,  Lord,  for  thee, 
These  living  sheaves  be  thine 

Throughout  eternity. 


Spring  Beauties. 

The  birds  have  come 
From  their  leafy  homes 

In  the  sunny  south  far  away; 
And  cheerily  singing 
The  trees  among 

So  happy,  and  blithe,  and  gay. 

Snowy  white  blooms. 
Tell  of  fruitage  to  come, 

Hiding  away  'neath  the  green. 
Silently  bursting, 
Leaf  buds  unclosing, 

Blossoms  of  beauty  are  seen. 


58 

Lost  and  Found. 


Fair  were  Eden's  bowers, 

Before  the  blight  of  sin 
Had  touched  the  human  heart. 

And  left  its  sting  within. 
A  jewel  from  our  hearts 

In  Eden  then  was  lost, 
And  we,  in  sin's  dark  hour, 

Were  tempest  tossed. 
For  years  the  loss  was  felt, 

The  world  was  drunk  with  sin; 
And  righteousness  and  peace 

Dwelt  not  the  heart  within. 
E'en  mercy  shrank  away, 

But  ever  hovered  near; 
To  save  the  world  some  day 

From  ruin  and  despair. 
For  God  is  the  God  of  truth, 

His  word  can  never  fail 
And  justice  over  all 

The  earth  prevails. 
His  love  to  us  so  great, 

He  sent  his  only  son, 
To  expiate  for  crimes 

A  sinful  world  had  done. 
A  wicked,  cruel  death, 

He  suffered  on  the  tree, 
Then  filled  a  new-made  tomb, 

And  rose  triumphantly. 
Oh!  mira-cle  of  morcy! 

That  e'er  such  love  was  given 
To  save  our  sinful  race 

And  make  us  heirs  of  heaven. 
Oh!  precious,  precious  thought: 

Our  sins  are  all  forgiven; 
We  can  enjoy  on  earth 

A  foretaste  e'en  of  heaven. 


59 


Oh!  miracle  of  wonder, 

In  yonder  fountain's  light, 
The  jewel  lost  in  Eden, 

Is  shining  clear  and  bright. 
So  pure  and  bright  it  shines, 

Cleansed  from  all  earthly  stain, 
Emblem  of  the  human  heart, 

Made  pure  and  \\  hite  again. 
Oh!  wondrous  story  of  his  love, 

Now  to  all  nations  given, 
The  jewel  lost  on  earth 

Was  treasured  up  in  heaven. 


Where  Oh!  Where? 

Where,  oh,  where,  when  my  dying  breath 
Ebbs  away  in  the  gasps  of  death , 
Where,  oh,  where,  shall  my  spirit  go, 
To  endless  joy,  or  ceaseless  woe? 

How  beautiful  now  is  life  to  me. 
Thy  glory,  God,  in  all  I  see. 
My  heart  is  bound  with  cords  of  love 
Reaching  up  to  realms  above. 

Fain  would  I  enjoy  life's  scenes, 
But  light  beyond  o'er  my  spirit  beams. 
Something  tells  me  that  far  away 
Is  a  home  where  darkness  never  stays. 

Within  the  bible — precious  thought. — 
Are  words  by  inspiration  wrought; 
Telling  of  Heaven— home  of  the  blest- 
There,  oh,  there,  shall  ray  spirit  rest. 

Father  gently  lead  me  along; 
Prayer  in  my  heart;  on  my  lips  a  song; 
Blessed  assurance,  God's  word  tells 
To  the  dying  soul,  "All  is  well." 


6<L 

Our  Past  and  Future.     * 


A  night  of  darkness  is  passing  away, 
I  see  the  glimmer  of  coming  dav; 
So  dreary  and  dark,  so  cold  has  it  been, 
No  ray  of  sunlight  the  shadows  between, 
Yet  all  the    time    I've   been  waiting  at 

home 

Wishing  the  morning  of  joy  would  come. 
Startling  with   fear,    and    an  unknown 

dread 

Wishing  I  were  but  asleep  with  the  dead. 
Craving  the  sympathy  felt  but  not  heard, 
weary  and  sad,  like  some  pinioned  bird, 
Over  the  waves  of  life's  dark  sea, 
Longing  to  spread  its  wings  and  be  free. 

Has  there  been  in  the  darkness  no  ray  of 

hope, 

Nothing  to  make  us  glad  and  look  up? 
Have  the  years  flown  by  on   noiseless 

wings 

Widening  the  light  with  their  shadowings, 
Through    the   air    heard    no    lingering 

sound; 
Oh,   ves;    many  an  echo  has  true  love 

found 

Within  our  home  wreath  many  a  blossom 
Burst  from  the  leaflets  and  slept  in  our 

bosom. 

Shedding  a  fragrance  of  love  around, 
Filling  the  air  with  jubilant  sound. 
Think  not  that  the  years  flitting  silently 

by 
Have  left  on  the  scroll  no    name;  but  a 

sigh. 


The  sky  of  our  future   is  gemmed  with 

stars. 
And  the  rainbow  of  hope  is  studded  with 

flowers. 

we'll  think  of  the  past,    but   with  no  re- 
pining, 
Remembering  each   cloud    had   a  silver 

lining. 
Long  may  our  home  bark  sail  smoothly 

along. 
With  hope  for  our  anchor  and  love  for 

our  song; 
Shunning  the   rocks  that  endanger  the 

way, 

Asking  a  blessing  from  God  each  day; 
Folding  the  lambs  of  the  fold  in  our  arms, 
Shielding  them  all  from  satan's  alarms. 
Safely  at  last  on  yonder  bright  shore. 
Each  life-boat  be  moored  to  sail  no  morn. 

Our  Easter  Lilly, 

A  pure  white  lily,  Lord  we  bring, 

It  is  our  Easter  offering. 

Its  fragrance  rare  has  filled  our  homo. 

But  now,  dear  Lord,  we  humbly  coiw 

And  lay  it  at  thy  feet. 
In  silence,  Lord,  we  breathe  our  lay; 
Our  flowers  are  wet  with  tears  to-day, 
We  know  thy  chastening  hand  in  love 
Has  taken  our  pure  gift  above, 

Our  lily  pure  and  sweet. 
Help  us  to  say  thy  will  be  done, 
While  traveling  here  on  earth  alone. 
And  let  our  Easter  anthem  rise, 
As  loving  incense  to  the  skies, 

Our  lily  fair  to  greet. 


I  Am  Thinking  Of  Thee. 

I  am  thinking1  of  thee,  my  boy,  to-night, 

O-n  that  distant  mountain,  where 
The  pure  white  snow  in  the  pale  moon- 
light, 

Mirrors  back  the  dark  .shadows  there; 
Thy  home  is  on  the  mountain  side 

'Neath  the  music  of  the  waterfall, 
Where  the  rude  wind  blows  the  leaves 
aside, 

And  the  echoes  answering  call. 

[  am  thinking  of  thee,  my  boy,  to-night, 

As  I  wat<ih  the  old  year  die, 
And  I  think  of  those  days  so  happy  and 

bright, 

Fond  memory  brings  them  nigh; 
\Vhen  you  were  with  us,  so  happy  and  gay. 

The  pride  of  our  humble  home. 
But  to-night  thou  art  far,  so  far  away, 

The  mountain  side  thy  home. 

We  miss  thee,  we  miss  thee,  mv  boy,  each 

night,  ,  . 

When  the  stars  in  the  heavens  are  twink- 
ling so  bright, 

We  listen  to  hear  thy  horn's  sweet  strain. 
And  wonder  if  e'er  we  shall  hear  it  again: 
We  know  the  echoes  sound  sweetly,  when 
They  sound  from  the  rocky  mountain's 

glen, 

But  never  so  sweet  will  the  echoes  fly, 
As  when  Mother  and  Jessie  stood  listening 
by. 


JS 

[  think  of  thee  ever  when  shades  of  nipht 
Chase  away  the  beautiful  bright  sunlight, 
For  then  you  are  tired,  though  the  work 

you  do 

Brings  copper,  silver  and  gold  to  view. 
Still  it  tires  the  body,  and  saddens  the 

heart 

Then  you  think,  oh;  how  far  apart 
I  am  from  those  who  love  me  true, 
And  you  wonder  then  if  we're  thinking 

of  you. 

God  bless  thee,  my  boy,  is  my  prayer  each 

night, 

And  it  always  makes  my  heart  more  light 
To  think  that  our  father  who  watches  o'er 

all, 

And  knows  e'en  when  the  sparrows  fall, 
Will  watch  over  my  boy,  in  his  mountain 

home, 
And  o'er  his  footsteps  wherever  he  may 

roam, 

But  remember,  my  boy,  a  mother's  love 
Will  endure  till  we  meet  in  heaven  above. 


64 

Time's  Changes. 

The  landmarks  now  are  falling. 

The  pioneers  are  passing1  away. 
The  milestones,  white  and  shining. 

Are  no  longer  seen  to-day. 
For  time  has  not  been  idle. 

Great  changes  have  been  wrought; 
Steam  stands  with  bit  and  bridle, 

And  lightning  wings  onr  thoughts. 

Far  off  upon  the  prairies 

Steam  guide*  the  plow  along, 
And  only  on  the  woodlands 

We  hear  the  plowman's  song. 
The  forest  trees  are  leveled 

And  fashioned  into  poles, 
To  hold  the  tiny  wire 

That  our  whispered  words  control. 

So  many  are  the  changes 

In  the  last  one  hundred  years — 
For  time,  the  patient  worker. 

Has  no  time  for  sighs  and  .tears. 
But  only  in  our  hearts 

These  memories  remain, 
And  cause  the  wish  to'start: 

Oh!  for  old  times  again  ! 

Anil  when  the  old  folks  meet 

To  talk  of  other  days. 
When  they  with  patient  hope 

Trod  o'er  the  untried  ways 
Of  pioneers;   when  these  forest  glades 

Rang  with  the  wild  birds'  song, 
And  in  the  dark  and  gloomy  night 
The  wolves  and  owls  the  sound  prolong. 


65 

Our  children's  children  listening, 

Hear  the  tales  that  thrill  them  HO, 
And  memory  delights  to  dwell 

Upon  the  scenes  of  long  ago. 
When  through  these  maple  groves 

The  red  man  left  his  trail, 
As  along  our  gentle  rivers 

He  sought  for  tish  and  quail. 

And  far  into  the  forest 

Hunted  for  nobler  game, 
The  deer,  and  shaggy  bruin, 

Unti!  the  white  man  came 
To  till  the  soil,  and  make  them  homes 

In  comfort  to  abide, 
While  the  Indian  wandered  o'er 

The  Mississippi's  tide. 

We  love  to  see  the  old  log  house 

Where  dwelt  our  honored  sires, 
And  mother  in  the  corner  sat 

And  knitted  by  the  fire. 
Where  children  ate  their  apples 

And  cracked  their  nuts  and  jokes, 
While  father,  in  the  old  arm  chair, 

The  back-log  gently  pokes. 

And,  oh  !  the  lovely  rambles, 

To  gather  nuts  and  llowers; 
Those  were  indeed  the  merry  days. 

In  this  busy  world  of  ours. 
Old  things  will  pass  away, 

The  new  must  take  their  place; 
Yet  the  cup  of  moss  is  sweeter 

Than  the  pearl-white  crystal  vase. 

The  music  of  the  spinning  wheel, 
And  the  graceful  forms  of  girls, 


As  they  back  and  forward  step, 
Are  not  Been  in  this  busy  whirl. 

Vet  there's  a  noble  work, 
For  our  eons  and  daughters  too; 

To  make  music  in  the  hearts  of  men; 
This  IR  the  work  to  do. 

And  in  the  distant  future, 

When  they  shall  nobly  stand 
As  pioneers  in  (he  work 

That  will  save  our  native  land, 
When  God  and   Temperance  shall  be 

Inscribed  among  the  stars  so  bright. 
And  then  the  banner  of  the  free 

Will  be  free  from  every  blight. 

A  Spring  Morning. 

A  brown-eyed  lit  tie  maiden 

Was  walking  through  the  lane. 
When  she  spied  a  little  flower, 

And  thus  her  sweet  refrain: 
"You  darling  little  flower," 

As  bending  down  she  said, 
"How  came  you  peeping  up. 

From  out  your  little  bed?" 
And  on  she  quickly  ran, 

So  eager  to  get  more. 
But  tripping,  down  she  fell, 

Upon  the  grassy  floor. 

Oh,  bright-eyed  little  maiden, 
Thus  all  through  your  life, 

You  will  stop  to  gather  flower*. 
And  oft  amid  the  strife 

Of  coming  days  and  years, 
You  will  wonder  at  the  cup 


So  often  mixed  with  tears. 

But  through  life's  ways  look  up. 
Your  Heavenly  Father's  hand, 

Who  makes  the  gentle  tiowe.s, 
Will  guide  your  tender  feet 

To  ar  imanthine  bowers. 


Tie  Army  of  Prote3tion. 


Listen  to  the  distant  tramping: 

Nearer,  nearer,  yet  they  come; 
'Tis  the  army  of  protection, 

Coming  to  protect  our  homes. 
Listen,  comrades,  to  the  voices 

Of  your  brothers  who  are  slain— 
Not  by  swords  or  flying  bulle's, 

But  by  whisky's  deadly  reign. 

Listen  to  the  cries  of  children, 

Listen  to  the  widows'  prayers, 
AVenry  with  thetr  constant  pleadings*. 

Silent  now,  but  bathed  in  tears. 
Men  of  God,  why  longer  wait; 

See  you  not  these  ruined  homes. 
Cabling  loudly  for  protection. 

Tarry  not,  but  quickly  co.ne? 

Come  and  join  this  noble  army 

Of  the  brave,  and  tried,  and  true, 
Side  by  side — move  closer,  brother — 

Room  for  more— there's  work  to  do. 
Save  our  homes,  our  girls  and  boys, 

All  that  makes  life  dear  to  us, 
God  of  victory,  courage  give, 

And  let  them  be  victorious. 


Leadville's  Welcome  to  Grant. 

When  long  ago  you  went  away, 
You  never  thought  to  see  this  day, 
To  travel  to  these  mountain  heights 
And  witness  here  with  keen  delight 
What  has  been  done,  where  forests  stood 
In  lonely  pride.    A  city  now  in  babyhood 
N7o  longer  stands.     For  on  her  brow 
She  wears  the  wreathe  of  manhood  now. 
And  here  your  brothers  waiting  stand 
To  give  to  you  the  welcome  hand. 
Here  where  snow-clad  mountains  raise 
To  heaven;  when  silent  hymns  of  praise, 
Here  where  flowers  of  every  hue 
Within  these  silent  gulches  grow, 
Here  where  streamlets  rushing  flow 
O'er  the  rocky  bed  below. 
Here  where  birds  with  plumage  bright 
Warble  their  songs  in  the  clear  sunlight. 
Here  where  the   clouds  roll   in    masses 

strange, 
O'er  the  distant    heights    like   anothei 

range: 

And  rainbows  spanning  the  distant  hills. 
The  heart  of  man  with  rapture  thrills. 
Here  where  echoes  ever  Hve, 
And  answering  echoes  backward  give 
A  sense  of  life,  in  the  regions  sound, 
Breaking  the  silence  so  profound. 
And  the  moon  and  stars  so  much  nearer 

seem, 
That  we  feel  the  warmth  of  the  moon's 

pale  beams; 

The  pine  trees  wavering  to  and  fro, 
Murmur  a  welcome  wherever  you  go, 
In  this  wonderful  city  so  full  of  men, 
Hushing  along  the  tide  to  stem, 


™  69 

The  miners  who  are  growing  old 
With  the  toils  and  care  of  finding  gold, 
And  vet' ran s  true,  now  growing  gray, 
Who  stood  by  your  side  in  battle  array, 
All  hasten  to  welcome  the  soldiers  true, 
Some  dressed  in  gray,  and  some  in  blue. 
Men  of  all  nations,  and  religions,  too 
Welcome  you  here,  with  warm  hea.rtstoo; 
Vet'rans  who  stood  by  our  side  in  war, 
And  fought  for  our  homes,   our  stripes 

and  stars. 
You  who  have  traveled  the    wide  world 

'round. 

Never  a  truer  welcome  found 
Than  this,  in  the  city  above  the  clouds, 
Where  men  from  the   South   and   North 

had  bowed. 


Children's  Voices. 

Chide  not  the  children's  voices. 

Ringing  so  loud  and  clear, 
Nature  herself  rejoices, 

In  the  springtime  of  the  year. 
And  life  to  them  seems  joyous, 

Each  year  seems  but  a  day. 
Oh!  that  these  happy  voices 
flight  never  pass  away. 

How  dreary  would  our  life  be, 

But  for  those  sounds  so  dear, 
And  yet  they're  ever  changing, 

With  each  swiftly  passing  year. 
Babyhood  will  change  to    manhood, 

Manhood  to  ripened  age, 
So  swiftly  do  we  measure 

Changes  on  life's  fair  page. 


70 


The  music  of  their  voices 

Still  echo  in  our  hearts, 
The  patter  of  their  footsteps 

In  fancy  oft  will  start 
When  in  the  distant  future 

Far,  far  away  they  ro^m, 
'Tis  then  we'll  miss  their  voices. 

And  long  to  call  them  home. 

To  Belle- 


May  blossoms  bloom  around  your  path* 
Scattering  their  fragrance  rare; 

In  such  abundance  may  they  bloom 
That  others,  too,  may  share 

Their  sweetness,  and  their  lovely  hues 

Be  emblems  of  the  giver,  too. 

May  sunshine  fill  thy  gentle  heart, 

And  hope  her  rainbow  fling 
Across  thy  path,  when  shadows  full. 

Or  pain's  sad  cruel  sting 
Shall  cause  thy  soul  to  thrill, 
Then  humbly  say,  it  is  God's  will. 

May  loving  friends  be  ever  near. 

To  cheer  the  passing  days; 
But  if  in  loving  kindness 

God  takes  our  friends  away, 
Think  not  that  down  beneath  the  sud 
Their  souls  must  lie;    their  spirits  go  to 
God. 

May  love,  and  hope,  and  sympathy. 

All  their  influences  lend. 
To  soothe  thy  loving  heart, 

And  flowers  their  perfume  blend, 
To  cheer,  with  cheerful  bloom. 
Thy  pathway  to  the  tomb. 


71 


Farewell  to  the  Old,  and  Welcome 
to  the  New. 


Can  it.  be  the  year  has  ended 
And  its  weight  of  toil  and  cares 

All  its  joys  and  sorrows  blended 
With  its  wealth  of  smiles  and  tears? 

Fare  thee  well.    Old  year,  farewell. 

Slowly  tolls  thy  funeral  knell. 

Can  it  be?  Ah,  yes;  I  feel  it- 
All  its  scores  of  pleasure  fled; 

Loving  friends  and  dearest  kindred 
Now  are  numbered  with  the  dead. 

Fare  thee  well.     Old  year,  farewell. 

Our  hearts  will  keep  thy  history  well. 

Welcome,  welcome,  Mew  Year's  morning, 
Birthday  of  the  coming*  year, 

Let  no  solemn  note  of  warning 
Fill  our  hearts  with  dread  and  fear. 

But  with  smiles  of  hearty  welcome 

Joyfully  we  bid  you  come. 

Welcome,  welcome,  life's  rich  blessings 
Will  be  scattered  o'er  our  way. 

Let  us  then,  with  songs  of  welcome. 
Greet  this  happy  New  Year's  day. 

Father — God — we  crave  from  thee 

Bounteous  gifts  for  Seventy -three. 


A  Poem, 

We  have  planted  to-day  two  tiny  trees, 
Only  a  promise  of  what  will  be 
When  they  grow  a  noble  and  goodly  sight; 
And  their  branches  wave  in  the  bright 

sunlight, 
And  the  children  play  in  their  cooling 

shade, 
But  we  to  our  silent  rest  are  laid. 

The  boys  then  will  have  grown  to  be  men. 
But  will  remember  the  time  the  long  ago, 

when 

They  planted  the  trees  by  the  school- 
yard gate 

Our  temperance  work  to  celebrate. 
And  memory  will  bring  to  view 
The  simple  badge  of  red,  white  and  blue. 

We  began  our  work  in  weakness  and 
love, 

With  firm  reliance  on  our  Father  above. 

Who  has  kindly  watched  over  our  little 
band, 

And  granted  success  on  every  hand. 

Only  one  of  our  number  has  passed 
away, 

And  we  raise  his  voice  in  our  songs  to- 
day. 

Let  these  trees  ever  an  emblem  be 
Of  our  temperance  work,  as  silently 
They  in  their  strength  and  beauty  grow. 
Ever  ascending  from  earth  below, 
So  we  in  our  influence  over  this  band, 
Should    lead    them    upward,    firmly  to 
stand. 


Oil  the  side  of  right,  truth  and  love. 
Giving  all  honor  to  God  above, 
Afar  in  the  future  memory  will  weave 
A  garland  of  flowers,  and    hid    with  the 

leaves 

Are  the  principles  taught  in  our  band  to- 
day, 
To  keep  our  children  from  going  astray 

Bits  of  Sunshine, 


8ee  in  yonder  woodlands, 

80  beautiful  and  green, 
Little  bits  of  sunshine, 

Here  and  there  are  seen. 
Making  shadows  brighter, 

Bringing  out  to  view 
All  its  hidden  beauties, 

And  the  flowers,  too. 

All  along  life's  pathway. 

Whatsoe'er  may  come* 
Little  bits  of  sunshine 

Lighten  up  the  gloom, 
Hays  of  loving  kindness, 

Little  words  of  Ifve, 
Leading  thoughts  so  gently  > 

Up  to  God  above. 

The  author  of  all  beauty, 

The  sunshine  and  the  shade, 
All  that  makes  earth  lovely, 

His  loving  hand  hath  made. 
So  where'er  the  shadows 

Hide  his  loving  face, 
See;  these  bits  of  sunshine 

Show  his  love  and  grace. 


Forget  Thee,  Oh!  no,  Love. 

Can  I  forget  thee?    Oh!  no.  love. 

When  absent,  I'm  thinking  of  thee, 
And  oft  when  thou  art  asleep,  love, 

My  spirit  is  watching  o'er  thee. 

CHORUS:— 

Oh!  can  1  forget  thee,  forget  thee, 

Can  I  forget  thee,  my  love, 
Can  ever  this  heart  love  feut  thee, 

But  thee  can  this  heart  ever  love. 

When  smiling  and  bright  are  the  skies. 

love, 

And  thou  art  at  work  on  the  lea, 
And  the  birds'  cheery    music  is  heard, 

love, 

I  list  for  for  some  tidings  of  thee. 
CHORUS:— 

And  oft  when  I'm  thinking  of  thee,  love, 

A  leaf  flitting  by  startles  me. 
T  think  'tis  thy  footsteps  I  hear,  love, 
And  my  heart  springeth  outward   to 

thee, 
CHORUS:— 

Oh!  then,  do  thou  never  forget,  love, 
One  who,  on  earth  loves  but  thee, 

Hut  think  of  that  moment  of  bliss, 
When  in  heaven,  united  we'll  be. 
CHORUS.— 


Work  for  the  Master. 


Come,  for  the  Master  calls, 
Work  in  my  vineyard  to-day; 

Gather  the  ripened  fruit, 
But  scatter  the  tares  away. 

Yes,  let  us  work  for  Jesus, 

Cheerfully,  hopefully  work* 

Jesus,  when  here  on  earth, 

Went  about  doing  good; 
His  loving,  simple  words 

Were  always  understood. 

He  gathered  the  little  lambs, 
Folding  thorn  to  his  breast; 

He  spoke  to  the  weary  ones, 
Promising  rest,  sweet  rest. 

Surely  this  great  example, 

Is  all  we  need  to  ask. 
Strength  he  will  give  to  labor, 

He  will  lighten  every  task. 

Come,  let  us  work  in  the  vineyard) 
Daylight  will  pass  too  soon; 

Work,  with  no  other  motive 
Than  to  hear  the  sweet  words,  "well 
done." 

Yes,  let  us  work  for  Jesus, 

Cheerfully,  hopefully  work. 


A  Letter. 


Boy  of  my  boy, 

Floy  die  BO  sweet, 
How  I  wish  grandma 

With  presents  could  greet 
You  on  your  birthday, 

Yes,  darling,  I  do; 
I  send  you  kind  wishes, 

And  five  kisses,  too. 

Away  up  in  the  cloudland, 

In  Leadville  so  bright, 
Your  dear  little  eyes 

Last  opened  to  light, 
Surrounded  by  loved  ones, 

An  object  of  love, 
You  came  as  a  gift 

From  our  Father  above. 

God  spared  your  wee  life 

When  we  thought  you  must  die. 
Now  dear  little  Floyd, 

Can  you  tell  me  why? 
It  was  to  fasten  a  chain 

Around  each  of  our  hearts 
A  chain  of  love  that  can  never 

Be  sundered  apart. 

Go  back  to  your  home, 

In  that  rose-perfumed  land 
Be  the  light  and  the  joy 

Of  that  family  band, 
When  with  father  and  mother, 

And  sister  so  dear. 
Send  grandma  some  kisses. 

Each  return  of  the  year. 


77 

Lines. 


The  waves  of  affliction  have  beat  o'er  thy 

path, 

Over  thy  feet  the  waters  have  pressed; 
All  through  the  storm  thy    kind   Father 

hath 

Kept  close  by  thy   side,  strengthened 
and  blessed. 

When  the  clouds  scattered,  and  blue  sky 

above 

Opened  to  view,  and  illumined  thy  way, 
The  wee  little   flower   that   grew   in  thy 

bower, 

Shed  its  perfume  of   love   to  brighten 
thy  stay. 

It  expanded  in  beauty  which  thy  devo- 
tion repaid, 

And  gladdened  thy  home  with  intelli- 
gent love; 

How  sweet  were  his  words  as  he  playful- 
ly said, 

"There's  room  for  you,    mania,    the 
bright  clouds  a.bove," 

Ah!  Glennie  has  gone  above  the  white 

clouds, 
His  sweet  little  welcome  will  greet  you 

at  last — 

When  the  storms  of  this  life  is  o'er, 
And  safe  in  the  harbor  your  anchor  is 
cast. 


Memorial  Day. 

Bring  rosemary  for  remembrance 

Of  our  soldier  boys  to-day; 
We  pinned  it  on  their  unforrns 

When  they  gaily  marched  away. 
All  wearied  with  the  conflict 

How  peacefully  they  lie, 
'Neath  the  waving  Southern  holly 

And  the  cloud-flecked  Northern  sky. 
For  their  graves  are  widely  scattered. 

O'er  the  land  that  they  have  blessed. 
The  green  mounds  of  our  heroes 

Link  the  East  unto  the  West. 

Our  soldier  boys  inhabited, 

Will  come  to  us  to-day; 
Not  with  martial  tread    and   beat    of 
drums. 

And  trappings  blue  and  gray. 
They  are  in  the  sifting  sunshine, 

They  stoop  down  with  the  breeze, 
We  hear  their  spirits  stirring 

In  the  rustle  of  the   leaves. 
When  fair  blossoms  we  have  scattered. 

And  our  prayers  we've  softly  said, 
We  receive  their  bene'diction 

From  the  bending  skies  o'erhead. 

A  respite  to  the  present, 

The  past  comes  forth  to-day, 
With  sad  and  time-worn  features, 

In  a  capuchin  of  gray. 
Ah!  the  years  are  grown  so  many 

Since  our  loved  ones  lowly  laid, 
Ah!  our  peace  was  bought  so  dearly, 

With  the  blood  they  freely  paid. 
How  priceless  was  the  harvest, 

Which  grim  war  did  reap  and  bind. 


JT9 

Youth  was  gathered,  manhood  housed. 
While  age  sart  in  the  wind. 

Yet  hope  doth  sing  most  blithely, 

In  our  saddened  hearts  to-day, 
For  we  know  the  true  and  faithful, 

With  the  Father  live  alway. 
Like  the  fragrance  of  the  flowers, 

Gently  laid  on  hero  breasts,  - 
Rise  the  incense  of  their  virtues, 

And  their  present  weal  behests. 
The  sacred  price  of  liberty, 

Is  not  forgotten  soon, 
For  the  memory  of  our  herges 

Is  an  everlasting  bloom. 


As  sunlight  steals  o'er  mountain's  brow, 
80  Father  let  thy  spirit  now, 

Shine  in  my  soul 

Its  influence  warm  my  frozen  heart, 
Causing  the  shadows  to  depart, 

My  thoughts  control. 

Thus  as  the  mount  is  gilded  o'er 

With  sunshine,  where  'twas  dark  before, 

Now  brightness  rests. 
So  in  my  heart  may  peace  and  joy 
[Tnmixed  by  sin's  impure  alloy. 

Make  me  more  blest 

Then  as  the  mountain  firmly  stands, 
Though  darkness  steals  over  all  the  lands 

It  rests  inthee. 

May  I,  thy  child  thus  calmly  stand, 
In  joy  or  sorrow  hold  thy  hand 

So  peacefully. 


80 

Rallying  Song. 


Come  rally  all  our  forces, 

In  union  there  is  strength, 
Come  raise  united  voices, 

Throughout  the  country's  length. 
Ring  out  the  signal  note, 

Of  victory  nobly  won, 
When  temperance  shall  prevail, 

From  dawn  till  setting  sun. 

Come  rally  round  our  standard 

Of  Prohibition,  do; 
There's  victory  in  union, 

And  strength,  and  conquest  too. 
Unitedly  to  labor, 

Is  only  to  succeed; 
In  every  good  endeavor, 

Union  is  what  we  need. 

Come  rally,  brothers;  rally, 
For  duty  calls  to-day; 

The  foe  is  always  ready, 
How  can  you  then  delay. 

Yes,  rally  round  our  leader, 
The  good,  and  brave,  and  true. 

His  ensign— Prohibition- 
Leads  forth  to  victory  too. 


81 

In  Memory  of  Mr-Bowers. 

At  last,  a,t  last,  our  village  bell 
Has  sounded  forth  a  funeral  knell, 
One  in  the  prime  of  life  has  gone 
''From  whence  no  traveler  returns." 
Will  it  be  strange  if  we  should  say, 
Who'll  be  the  next  to  pass  away? 

How  sad  those  tones;  0!  who  can  tell 

The  anguish  which  their  echoes  swell 

Within  the  bosom  of  the  lone, 

The  sad  and  widowed  one, 

And  memory  will  often  tell 

When  first  was  tolled  our  village  bell. 

Yet  often  as  the  leaflets  fade, 
Our  dearest  friends  will  oft  be  laid 
Within  the  silent  earth  to  rest 
Folded  the  hands  upon  the  breast, 
Their  work  all  done,  angels  will  keep 
Watch  o'er  the  grave  while  they  gentl.y 
sleep. 


JS2 

Vote  For  Prohibition. 

TUXE — W.-iit  for  f]if>  Wagon. 


A  glorious  time  is  coining1, 

We  .see  it  from  afar, 
KTer  now  we  see  the  dawning. 

Of  the  Prohibition  star. 
Its  beams  are  penetrating 

Our  States  and  Nation  too, 
And  victory  is  coming; 

My  friend,  what  will  you  do? 

IOKIS: — Vote  for  Prohibition, 
Vote  for  Prohibition, 
Vote  for  Prohibition, 

"When  the  glad  day  com*- 

( )h!  listen  to  the  tramping- 
Of  the  little  ones  to-day, 
Their  tender  feet  are  marching 

To  music's  time  along, 
When  banners  bright  are  flying, 

With  mottoes  firm  and  true, 
Our  Loyal  Legions  coming, 
My  friend,  what  will  you  do? 
('Hours:—        ** 

For  God  has  heard  the  praying 

Of  the  women  of  to-day. 
And  they  are  up  and  doing, 

And  ready  for  the  fray. 
Their  happy  voices  ringing, 

Bring  words  of  cheer  to  yon- 
Two  hundred  thousand  women— 

My  friend,  what  will  you  do? 
CHORUS:— 


Memories  of  Home. 


Walking  among  the  shadows, 

Around  the  orchard  green, 
Looking  among  the  branches, 

To  see  the  sunlight  sheen. 
Cutting  through  the  boughs 

To  let  the  daylight  through  ; 
This  is  the  only  work 

Our  father  now  can  do. 

The  trees  that  he  once  planted 

In  the  long,  long  time  ago, 
When  in  the  prime  of  manhood 

He  set  them  in  a  row- 
When  children  in  their  gambols. 

In  all  their  boyish  glee, 
Followed  him  o'er  the  greensward  N 

To  hold  each  tiny  tree. 

But  now  the  boys  are  leaving 

The  well-known  paths  of  home. 
Striving  in  busy  manhood 

With  other  scenes  to  roam; 
But  never  once  forgetting, 

Parents  and  sister  dear, 
Or  the  memories  that  linger 

'Round  the  old  hearthstone  heiv. 


Sorrow. 


Even  loves  most  subtle  power, 
Cannot  equal  sorrow's  hour, 
When  the  heart  touch  is  so  keen. 
Nothing  seems  to  come  between. 
Every  heart-throb  feels  the  pain. 
Yet  hope  and  joy  will  come  again. 


84 


Rally. 


Rally,  brothers,  rally, 

The  bugle  calls  to-day; 
.Make  ready  for  the  battle, 

Do  not  an  hour  delay; 
For  the  eneemy  is  working. 

While  you  are  idle  still. 
Then  rally,  brothers,  rally, 

And  work  with  a  noble  will. 

The  women,  too,  are  praying, 

"For  home  and  native  land/' 
That  God  would  keep  the  tempter 

From  every  family  band. 
Then  buckle  on  your  armor, 

For  there's  earnest  work  to  do; 
So  grandly  forth  to  battle. 

Until  you  meet  the  foe. 

Remembering  that  the  women 

We  left  behind  to  pray 
That  God  will  give  you  strength 

To  firmly  stand  each  day. 
Go  forth!  the  God  of  victory 

Is  with  the  weak  lo-day; 
Go  labor  in  His  strength, 

And  the  "right  shall  win  the  day.' 


85 

Encouragement  to  Labor. 


Work;  for  the  Master  tells  us 

To  labor,  pray  aud  wait, 
Work;  for  the  night  soon  cometh: 

When  it  will  be  too  late. 
Patiently  toil  for  Jesus, 

Gather  your  bundle  of  sheaves, 
Grieve  not  the  holy  spirit 

With  nothing  but  withered  leaves, 

Work  in  whatever  season 

You  can  find  work  to  do, 
If  for  no  other  reason 

There  is  so  much  to  do. 
The  reapers  are  not  in  earnest, 

They  tarry  until  too  late, 
Then  sigh  because  there  is  nothing 

But  leaves  to  lay  at  the  gate. 

Quickly  obey  the  promptings 

The  holy  spirit  gives, 
God  calls  for  willing  workers 

Who  in  his  service  live. 
Oh!  hasten  at  his  bidding, 

Delays,  the  spirit  greives, 
And  this  is  the  reason  why 

you  gather  "nothing  but  leaves," 

The  sweetest  floweret  often 

Lies  close  beside  ^our  feet, 
But  oft  with  careful  searching 

Some  fairer  one  you'll  greet 
Then  faint  not  or  be  weary, 

Your  Irbors  are  not  in  vain, 
Your  sure  reward  will  be 

A  bundle  of  ripened  grain. 


What  Can  We  Do  For  Jesus? 


Hark  to  the  cry  for  help 

Sounding  from  near  and  far, 
It  thrills  through  every  heart 

And  deepest  feelings  stir. 
What  can  we  do  for  Jesus 

By  aiding  with  our  means, 
In  those  far  distant  lands 

And  future  harvests  gleans? 

Oh!  there  is  work  for  Jesus, 

Work  that  will  fruitage  bear, 
The  seed  which  now  is  sown 

Will  bloom  in  future  years, 
Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters, 
,   Do  it  in  faith  and  love, 
And  thou  shalt  surely  reap 
A  blessing  from  above. 

The  sound  comes  from  afar, 

From  regions  still  beyond 
Then  harken  to  the  cry 

And  with  your  alms  respond. 
Withhold  then  not  thy  gifts 

God's  voice  is  in  the  land. 
An  answer  to  these  calls 

He  surely  will  demand. 

Up  then  and  work  for  Jesus, 

Work  with  a  heart  and  will 
Letting  all  selfish  pleas 

Within  our  hearts  be  still, 
Help  us,  our  heavenly  Father 

To  faithfully  sow  the  seed, 
Be  thou  our  present  help 

In  everv  time  of  need. 


J87 

Joy  Cometh  In  The  Morning. 

Great  God!  how  kind  thou  art, 
For  so  short  a  time  apart; 
Morning-  scarcely  gone— 'tis  noon; 
The  messenger  has  come  so  soon, 
So  softly  did  the  angels  come. 
We  heard  no  footsteps  in  the  room, 
Yet  they  have  borne  our  loved  away, 
To  realms  of  everlasting  day. 

Shall  we  then  weep  and  mourn 
That  angels  hands  have  borne 
Our  loved  away,  on  Jesus'  breast 
.  To  enjoy  a.  rest — sweet  rest? 
Our  love  can  freely  flow,  and  more, 
Now  they  are  safe  on  the  other  shore; 
How  sweet  the  thought  that  we  may  share 
Such  perfect  love  in  that  land  so  fair. 

The  good  never,  never  dies,  but  lives, 
And  memory  oft  a  token  gives, 
While  we  are  still  by  tempest  tossed, 
To  cheer  us  on  to  our  loved  and  lost; 
The  good  man  sows  the  seed,  and  weeps 
That  he  must  wait  so  long  ere  time  to  reap; 
But  children's  children  yet  shall  share 
The  harvest  which  his  work  shall  bear. 

Toil  then,  ye  servants  of  the  Lord 
And  trust  the  promise  of  his  word, 
Toil  with  the  full  assurance  given 
That  we  shall  meet  our  loved  in  heaven, 
That  when  the  Master  calls  thee  home,  ' 
Thou  will  not  tread  "the  vale"  alone, 
For  "I  am  with  thee  to  the  end" 
"Servant  of  God,"  "well  done." 


Ssmi-Centennial  of  The  Baptist 
Church. 

'We  have  come  to  tell  the  story 

Of  fifty  years  ago, 
When  Tecumsoh,  in  her  glory 

Of  natures  virgin  glow, 
When  hill  and  valley 

And  rivers  gentle  flow, 
All  joined  to  swell  the  music 

Of  fifty  years  ago. 

For  then  the  noble  chieftain 

And  woman's  dusky  brow 
Enjoyed  those  solitudes, 

AVliere  now  the  busy  plow 
Has  changed  the  face  of  nature 

To  marts  of  commerce  now, 
And  homes  take  place  of  wigwams, 

This  lovely  valley  through. 

But  time  has  brought  great  changes, 

Old  scenes  have  passed  away; 
Instead  of  red — pale  faces 

Greet  our  return  to  day; 
The  wild  birds  warble  sweetly, 

The  river  runs  its  way, 
And  the  trees  blooms  forth  in  foliage 

And  flowers  in  bright  array. 

But  a  sound  has  broken  the  stillness. 

On  each  Holy  Sabbath  day, 
For  a  band  of  worshippers 

Have  met  to  praise  and  pray, 
And  as  the  years  passed  swiftly. 

Each  year  and  every  day, 
This  band  of  earnest  Christians 

Did  not  forget  to  pray. 


We  have  listened  to  the  records 

Of  work  done  long  ago, 
And  listened  to  memorials 

Read  in  solemn  tones  and  low, 
And  art  brought  back  the  faces 

Of  loved  ones,  happy  now, 
And  the  eyes  of  faith  looked  upward 

At  the  groups  that  gazed  below. 

With  rapture  on  the  meeting 

Of  friends  and  children  dear 
Who  mingle  their  rejoicing, 

On  this  So  mi -Centennial  year, 
Could  we  but  hear  their  voices, 

Giving  us  words  of  cheer, 
To  labor  without  ceasing 

'Til  the  next  Centennial  year. 


Prohibition. 


What  is  it  that  I  see  from  afar? 

It  is  the  Prohibition  car; 

Its  beacon  light  a  shining  star, 

My  Brother,  O,  my  Brother! 
It  scatters  beams  of  light  around; 
And  hark;  I  hear  its  rumbling  sound, 
As  on  it  comes  with  quivering  bound, 

My  Brother,  O,  my  Brother! 

It  brings  good  news  from  far  and  near, 
It  bids  us  nope  and  never  fear, 
And  onward  go  with  words  of  cheer, 

My  Brother,  O,  my  Brother! 
It  tells  us  of  the  time  to  come 
When  in  our  land  ther'll  be  no  rum 
To  lead  our  boys  to  drunkard's  doom: 

My  Brother,  0,  my  Brother! 


Then  let  us  roll  the  car  along, 

And  vote  for  Prohibition  Strong, 

And  cheer  our  way  with  temperance  song 

My  Brother,  O,  my  Brother! 
Makf  this  the  law  throughout  the  land 
And  every  home  a  temperance  band; 
Ring  out  the  news  on  every  hand, 

My  Brother,  0,  my  Brother! 

Asleep  in  Jesus. 

Rest,  weary  pilgrim,  so  sweetly  sleep, 
No  weary  watchers  kind  vigils  keep, 
So  calmly  sleeping  on  Jesus'  breast; 
Rest,  weary  pilgrim,  rest,  gently  rest. 
Soft  was  the  pillow  Hislovinghand  spread 
Downy  but  soft  was  thy  dying  bed., 
For  Jesus  was  there,  he  suffered  no  gloom 
To  enshroud  thy  path  to  the  tomb. 

Rest,  aged  pilgrim,  thy  life's  work  is  done 
The  victory  gained  the  race  surely  won, 
Thy  days  all  numbered,  to  return  no  more 
All   that  have  passed  to  eternity's  shore. 
Thine  be  the  joy  to  arrive  first  at  home, 
Feeling  so  sure  thy  loved  ones  will  come, 
Mother,  for  thee,  we  willnot  shed  a  tear, 
But  rejoice  that  to  us,  thy  home  is  so  near. 

Rest,  aged  pilgrim:  life's  journey  o'er, 
Waiting  for  us  on  the  evergreen  shore, 
Realizing  fully  anticipations  of  bliss 
Felt  but  not  seen  in  regions  like  this. 
O!  could  we  see  thee  in  yonder  bright  sphere 
We  would  not  recall  thee,  one  moment  here. 
Farewell  then  sweet  mother,  in  Jesus  sleep 
While  safe  in  our  hearts,  thine  image  we 
keep. 


Bury  Me  By  The  River. 

Bury  me  down  by  the  river 

That  flows  so  swiftly  down 
From  rocky  mountain  summits 

Where  rests  a  snowy  crown 
That  melts  away  in  silence 

But  seems  never  to  decay 
For  you  can  see  its  whiteness 

Upon  a  summer's  day. 

Then  bury  down  by  the  river 

Away  from  the  city's  din, 
In  sight  of  the  dear  old  mountain.- 

Away  from  those  haunts  of  sin. 
Alone,  'mid  scenes  of  garndure 

Let  the  pine  trees  o'er  me  wa\v 
While  the  swiftly  flowing  river 

Sings  a  requiem  o'er  my  grave. 

Ah!  maiij*  a  boy  lies  buried 

Among  the  rockies  wild, 
And  many  a  mother  mourns 

For  her  enthusiastic  child, 
Who  wandered  away  for  riches. 

So  young,  so  fair,  so  brave; 
Only  to  find  amid  strangers 

By  the  Arkansaw,  a  grave. 

An  Epitaph. 

No  monument  of  stone 

Can  tell  our  love  for  thee, 
Fond  memory  alone 

Can  tell  the  mystery 
Of  filial  love,  God  knows  our  heart, 
How  sad  it  was  for  us  to  part. 


Home  Angels, 

Standing  iu  the  corner, 

Sitting  on  my  knee, 
Eyes  brim  full  of  mischief, 

Running  o'er  with  glee. 
Voice  of  sweetest  music, 

Singing  songs  for  me. 
Such  my  dear  home  angels, 

Clinging  to  my  knee. 

Springing  like  the  squirrels, 

Shouting  with  delight, 
Singing  with  the  birdies, 

Like  themselves  so  bright 
Full  of  life  and  action, 

Mimic  workmen,  too; 
Busy,  ever  working, 

Learning  something  new. 

(iently  let  us  cherish, 

These  angels  in  disguise, 
Lest  the  dark  angel  eareth 

To  bear  them  to  the  skies. 
Our  hearts'  sincere  affections 

Entwine  them  round  to-day, 
Then  when  the  angel  calleth 

We'll  bid  thee  haste  away. 


~™~~_  93 

Lines. 

Bury  me  near  the  soft  cool  stream, 
Reflecting'  oft  the  moon's  pale  beam, 
Where  lillies  grow  amid  shadows  there, 
And  waft  their  fragrence  on  the  summer 

air, 

There  I  can  sleep  and  be  at  rest, 
'Til  Christ  shall  call— among  the  blest. 

The  violet  on  its  mossy  bed, 
May  shed  its  odors  o'er  my  head, 
The  primrose  at  the  hour  of  eve, 
May  there  its  fragrent  flowers  leave, 
But  when  I  reach  that  blissful  shore, 
There  flowers  may  bloom  and  fade  no 
more. 

The  birds  may  there  its  silence  break, 
And  tuneful  echoes  around  them  wake, 
While  seraphs  on  their  Heavenly  wings, 
As  through  the  air  they  lightly  spring, 
Will  w^atch  o'errny  slumbering  body  below 
While  my  spirit  the  glories  of  Heaven  will 
know. 


An  Epitaph. 

So  let  us  ready  be 

To  meet  ourTriends  above, 

To  enjoy  the  glad  fruition 

Of  that  bright  home  above; 

May  we  never  hear  the  word— to  Ij»,t*> 

To  enter  at  the  Golden  Gate. 


Out  of  Place- 

Poor,  forlorn  little  owl, 

Say,  why  are  you  here? 
You  surely  don't  drink 

Either  whisky  or  beer. 
Your  place  is  the  wildwood, 

In  its  shadows  you  rest, 
Your  companions,  the  birds, 
Resting  snug  in  their  nests. 
Then  why,  little  owl, 

Are  you  sitting  alone. 
On  the  steps  of  the  tavern 

Where  such  business  is  done? 
Are  you  a  true  symbol 

Of  work  done  within? 
Are  you  truly  a  type 

Of  desolation  and  sin? 
Oh!  if  you  would  only 

Sound  a  warning  each  night, 
And  tell  all  our  boys 

Of  rum's  withering  blight, 
It  will  help  them  remember 

Their  promise  to  keep, 
No  matter  if  your  voice 

Be  so  solemn  and  deep. 
Will  you  not  do  it? 

Say,  little  one,  say! 
Help  us,  we  pray  thee, 

Drive  this  monster  away 
Fly  away  to  your  nest; 

In  the  tavern  don't  stay. 
To  witness  the  doings, 

Each  night  and  each  day. 
But  if  you  just  think, 

There's  a  work  for  you, 
Why  then,  let  us  hear 

Your  to-wit  to-whoo: 


In  tones  deep  and  earnest, 
Tefl  the  boys  each  night 

To  keep  away  from  the  saloons, 
And  dare  to  do  right. 


They  Have  Entered  Into  Their  Rest. 

They  have  entered  the  heaven  of  rest, 
Prepared  for  the  children  of  God, 

Received  the  reward  of  the  blest, 
Oft  promised  in  God?s  Holy  word. 

They  died  in  their  fresh  dewy  youth, 
Passed  canily  from  earth  away, 

Crowned    with  affection,    goodness    and 

truth, 
Words  of  love  could  not  bid  them  stay. 

Three  summers  the  grass  has  grown  o'er 
The  grave  where  dear  Annie  is  laid; 

And  close  by  her  side,  mid  the  snow  wreath 
A  grave  for  dear  Agnes  was  made. 

The  seed  they  have  sown  is  treasured  above 
It  bringeth  forth  fruit  even  now, 

And  many  a  gem  from  their  labor  of  love, 
Xow  shines  o'er  the  Savior's  brow. 

Then  dry  up  thy  tears,  loving  mother, 
Their  suffering  and  care  now  are  o'er, 

With  joy  they  will  welcome  thee,  father, 
Where  parting  will  come  never  more. 


96 

Decoration  Day, 

To-day:  how  solemn  is  the  tread 

Of  thousands  in  our  land, 
As  they  visit  the  silent  dead 

From  many  a  household  band. 
Tenderly,  low,  they  bow  o'er  the  grave. 

To  lay  their  offerings  there, 
But  the  costliest  gift  they  leave 

IB  a  warm  and  silent  tear. 

To-day:  how  many  hearts  will  bleed. 

Unseen  by  mortal  man, 
Silently  mourning  for  their  dead, 

God  only  such  secrets  can  scan, 
So  gently  bow;    God  knoweth  thy  heart. 

He  only,  true  comfort  can  give. 
Hopefully  scatter  the  sweet  gentle  flowers 

In  our  hearts  their  fragrance  will  live. 

To-day:  the  saddest  of  the  year 

AVhen  memory  opens  the  door 
Of  many  a  buried  sorrow     . 

That  time  has  not  healed  o'er. 
.Patiently  bow  to  the  will  of  God 

Who  chastens,  but  onl^m  love, 
To  prepare  us  our  loved  ones  to  greet 

In  yon  bright  home  above. 

To-day:  a  nation  mourns  her  dead, 

True  heroes  who  have  died, 
And  fathers,  brothers,  lovers,  lay 

In  slumber,  side  by  side. 
I  'heerfully  now  our  offerings  we  bring 

Though  damp  with  the  tears  we  shed. 
A  halo  of  glory  now  shines 

Over  our  sleeping  dead. 


To-day:  in  this  centennial  year, 

The  world  looks  on  to  view 
The  work  a  hundred  years  ago, 

We  never  had  thought  to  do, 
-)  oyf ully  sing,  with  heroic  ring, 

Though  our  garlands  with  heartstrings 

are  tied, 
*  Mir  land  is  the  home  of  the  free 

Because  our  loved  ones  have  died. 


Our  County  Jail  Is  Empty. 

''Our  county  jail  is  empty," 

*Tis  strange,  the  people  say; 
What  do  you  think  has  happened 

To  mark  the  roundelay? 
Why,  the  women  have  been  praying. 

And  God  has  heard  their  cry; 
This  then  is  the  reason — 

And  the  only  reason  why. 

(lod  designs  to  here  these  prayers, 

Offered  so  earnestly; 
May  every  prisoner  in  our  laud 

As  free  from  drunkards  be; 
And  homes  long  since  benighted 

°y  this  great,  blighting  sin, 
T  te-nper  ance  ope  their  portals 

That  joy  may  reign  within. 


Song  of  An  Invalid, 

I  am  bathing  in  the  sunshin<'. 

Breathing  the  breath  of  flowers: 
1  am  lying'  in  the  sunshine. 

Knioying  the  morning  hours. 

I  rim  gazing  upon  the  landscape, 
Viewing  this  glorious  .scene, 

Ah!  au  aged  friend  exclamed, 
"How  Heavenly  it  seems." 

1  am  msting  in  the  sunshine. 

\Virh  nothing  else  to  do 
P>ut  listen  to  the  bird's  notes, 

And  in  my  h^art  sing  too. 

All.  yes!  I've  work  to  do — 
I'm  doing  my  father's  will: 

Then  whv  should  1  complain? 
Be  still,  my  heart,  be  still. 


Pleasure's  Duties. 

Karth's  pleasure*  are  fleeting. 

They  vanish  away, 
Like  flowers  in  December,- 

Or  snow  flakes  in  May. 

<  )ur  school  days  are  passing 

As  quickly  away. 
A  ml  oft  in  the  future, 

Will  wish  they  would  stay. 

( )h.  prize  then  those  hours. 

For  time  will  not  stay. 
And  duties,  like  pleasures, 

Wait  for  no  delay. 


Let  our  motto  be  work, 
The  work  of  to-day. 

Finding  pleasure  in  duties, 
Is  the  very  best  way. 


Flowers, 

Flowers,  blooming'  everywhere, 
Emblems  of  our  Father's  care, 
Showing  forth  His  wonderous  power, 
Making  bright  each  passing  hour, 
Wisdom,  beauty,  love  and  grace, 
<  )'er  each  little  flower  we  trace. 

Roses  blooming  everywhere, 
In  the  garden,  sweet  and  rare, 
On  the  mountain,  in  the  vale. 
Blooming  over  hill  and  dale, 
Fairest  flowers — with  sweetest  breath, 
Shedding  fragrence  e'en  in  death. 

Lillies  blooming  everywhere 

Teaching,  God  is  very  near, 

Amid  the  purling  streams  they  grow. 

On  its  bosom  blossoms  blow. 

The  lilly  of  the  valley  blooms 

And  sheds  its  fragrance  o'er  the  tomb 

Oh,  the  ministry  of  flowers, 
Full  of  thought  for  waking  hours. 
Speaking  oft  in  tender  tone, 
Striking  cords  whose  slighest  moan 
Echoes  back  in  hearts  that  love, 
Trecious  gifts  from  God  above. 


100  

Questionings, 

What  will  the  coming  year  bring 
Of  hope  and  joy  and  sorrow? 

What  will  time  on  frieghted  wing 
Have  to  give  us  tomorrow? 

Sadly  I  ask  the  question  tonight. 
Will  the  coming  days  bedark  or  bright? 

Swiftly  will  the  arrows  fly 
From  out  life's  well  filled  quiver. 

Ere  I  reach  the  golden  stand, 
Beyond  the  silent  river; 

How  shall  I  bear  each  quivering  dart 
As  they  pierce  my  soul  with  keenest- 
smart? 

Shall  I  chafe  and  murmur  now. 
Shadows  flitting  o'er  my  brow. 

Ever  sighing,  ever  sad, 
Naught  to  make  my  spirit  glad? 

Because  I  know  in  the  days  to  come, 
Pain  and  sorrow  will  enter  my  home. 

Shall  I  not  enjoy  the  while, 

Nature's  joys  and  God's  sweet  smiln. 
Ever  learning  something  new, 

Making  other  happy  too; 
Leaving  the  answer— Ldrfl  to  thee, 

Who  will  my  friend  and  helper  be? 

An  Epitaph 

Rest,  loved  one  rest, 
So  camly  on  thy  Saviors  breast. 
No  more  shall  cruel  pain  distress. 
In  Heaven  is  perfect  happiness; 
Rest,  loved  one  rest. 


A  China_Wedding, 

Twenty  years!  Oh!  can  it  be? 

The  years  have  passed  so  silently: 

So  full  of  cares,  and  sighs  and  tears, 

Yet  joy  has  crowned  full  many  a  year: 

Twenty  years!  Ah,  yes!  and  yet 

It  seems  but  yesterday  we  met, 

To  pledge  our  vows, 

And  then,  as  now, 

We  promised  in  the  years  to  come, 

To  make  on  earth  a  happy  home, 

So  once  again  we  start  anew 

Life's  toilsome  journey  to  pursue, 

Well  knowing  that  a  Father's  love, 

That  watches  o'er  us  from  above, 

Will  guide  our  little  bark,  and  steer 

To  happier  climes,  without  a  fear. 

So  trusting  Him,  we  hand  in  hand, 

Will  sail  to  our  Emanuel's  land; 

But  what  is  this  that  greets  us  here? 

The  birth-day  of  the  twentieth  year, 

Since  we  first  started  out  together, 

Through  sunshine  and  wintry  weatlifr! 

But  not  alone  we  stand  to-day, 

For  Nellie,  blithsome,  happy  and  gay; 

Pledge  of  our  love  to  us  is  given, 

A  little  child,  to  lead  to  Heaven; 

And  friends  unnumbered,  too,  are  here 

To  greet  us  with  their  kindly  cheer; 

With  gifts  so  beautiful  to  view, 

And  what  is  more,  are  useful  too, 

And  flowers,  and  music,  Heaven's  own  gifts 

Are  here  to  help  our  hearts  to  lift— 

A  song  of  praise  to  God  above, 

Who  gives  this  wealth  of  human  love. 

And  words  of  love,  our  hearts  to  cheer, 

And  hope,  and  joy,  to  crown  the  year; 

God  grant  that  till  our  journey  ends, 

We  may  be  blessed  with  loving  friends. 


Sweet  Faded  Flowers. 


Thy  home  is  not  here, 

Then  why  hast  thou  strayed 
From  thy  home  on  the  hill  side 

Where  our  loved  ones  are  laid? 
'Twcis  to  vibrate  a  chord,   that  HO  often 

thrills 

At  the  mention  of  one.  loved  dearly  still. 
The  thoughts  that  are  written 

On  memorie's  tablet, 
Oft  sweeten  and  lighten 

Life's  bitter  cup, 
Of  our  babe  dearly  loved  and  so  tenderly 

cherished, 
Of  our  beautiful  flower,  that  so  suddenly 

perished. 
Yet  sad  are  the  thoughts 

Which  thou  bringest  to  me 
Of  a  beautiful  spot, 

In  the  Bay  cemettny 

Where  the  birds  carrol  sweetly,  and  flow- 
ers perfume; 
Our  loved   one's  retreat,  the  lone,  silent 

tomb. 
Oh!  why  doth  my  spirit 

Remain  here  so  long?  *  * 
Rather  let  it  soar  higher 

'Midst  a  happier  throng 
W.ith  the  angels  to  stay,  in  Heaven— h HI- 

home; 

She  weclomes  me  to  her,  dear  MAGGIE,  I'll 
come. 

Our  Darling. 

Beneath  a  grassy  mound  her  body  lies, 
But  angels  bore  her  spirit  to  the  skies. 


10.3 

To  Mrs^W. 

Sweet  little  birdie 

Thither  it  flew. 

Nestling  so  sweetly 

A  moment  with  YOU, 
It  silently  whispered 

Its  loved  tones  to  thee, 
Then  spread  his  light  wings 
1 5 right  glories  to  see. 

Tiny  white  flower 

To  brighten  life's  day, 
It  bloomed  but  an  hour 
Then  withered  awa-y. 
Its  perfume  still  lingers 

Around  thy  dear  home. 
In  Heaven,  it  calleth  thee, 
Mother,  dear,  come. 

So  gently  weep 

Smiling  through  tears 
Thy  loved  one's  asleep 
Secure  from  all  fears. 
Oh  think  of  thy  shining  one 

Waiting  for  the  day 
When  Jesus  shall  call  thee 
And  thy  tears  wipe  away. 

An  Epitaph. 

Watching  and  waiting  I  see  them  stand, 
Plumes  of  victory  in  their  hands, 
Their  faces  are  blooming  with  perfect  love 
And  they  beckon  to  us  to  join  them  above 
Dear  father  and  mother,  yes  we  will  come 
And  dwell  with  you  ever,  in  Heaven,  out- 
home. 


104 

Who  Will  Go, 


Where  is  the  woman's  hand 

To  take  up  the  broken  thread 
Of  ribbon,  in  Mexico's  land, 

Laid  down  by  the  lovely  dead? 
Who  will  water  the  seed 

With  tenderest  care  and  love. 
Who  feels  pity  for  Mexico's  needs. 

Xo\v  Lola  has  gone  above? 

Yes,  some  one's  heart  will  answei1, 

And  some  one's  feet  will  go. 
And  some  one's  hand  will  gather 

The  women  of  Mexico, 
And  band  them  all  together 

In  Unions  of  work  and  love. 
To  be  watched  over  by  Lola 

In  Heaven,  her  home  above. 

God  pity  our  dark-browed  sisters. 

Who  feel  this  accursed  sin, 
And  send  to  them  a  helper, 

A  glorious  victory  to  win. 
Tell  them  the  story  of  Lola, 

Who  loved  her  people  so; 
When  dying,  she  told  he?  lover, 

"Send  some  one  to  Mexico.'' 


Little  Feet. 


I  am  lieing  on  my  pillow 
Listning  to  tiny  feet, 

As  they  patter  on  the  floor 
And  under  the  window  seat. 


105 


I  know  it  makes  me  weary 
To  hear  them  come  and  go, 

But  if  I  had  no  children 
Oh!  God,  what  would  1  do? 

Then  wilt  thou  not  dear  Father, 
Gently  guard  these  little  feet 

From  going  into  slipery  paths 
Where  sin  and  danger  meet? 

Then  in  that  home  so  lovely. 

When  we  walk  those  golden  sti •«-»>ts. 
'Twill  be  so  sweet  to  listen 
.   To  the  patter  of  children's  feet. 

Bear  Ye  One  Another's  Burdens, 


Oh,  when  the  heart  is  weary. 

And  sad  with  human  care, 
Oh,  when  the  heart  is  lonely, 

And  none  our  burdens  share. 
How  sweet  to  lean  on  Jesus, 

He  will  our  burdens  bear. 

And  when  the  shadows  lengthen 

And  deeper  waters  roll, 
'Tis  sweet  to  hear  the  whisper, 

Break  on  the  inmost  soul, 
"Peace  be  still;"  oh,  storm  tried  o 

On  me  thy  burdens  roll. 

And  weary  burdened  sinner, 
Thy  heavy  load  of  guilt, 

Thou  canst  bring  it  unto  JHSUS. 
He'll  bear  it  if  thou  wilt, 

He  gave  himself  to  ransom  thee, 
And  bear  himself  thy  guilt. 


KM; 

Kind  Words. 


Kind  words,  how  seldom  heard, 

Although  free  to  all, 
Scattering,  like  the  rose  leaves. 

Sweetness,  ns  they  fall. 

Like  the  evening's  cooling  dew. 

To  the  thirsty  flowers, 
So  kind  words  will  often  soothe 

\Ye;-n-y  hearts  like  ours. 

Who  then  would  not  whisper, 

A  gentle,  loving  word? 
Through  its  kindly  influence 

The  heart's  depths  are  stired. 

Loving  tone  and  cheery, 

For  the  weak  and  sad; 
Encouragement  and  hope 

The  weary  to  make  glad. 

Sweet  echoes  from  the  kind  words 
Will  linger  'round  us  here. 

Sweet  memories  too,  of  kind  acts 
-Will  cluster  'round  our  bier. 


Snow.- 


Emblem  of  purity,  beautiful  snow, 
( 'overing  the  earth  wherever  you  go, 
Weaving  a  mantle  of  love  over  all, 
Making  for  sin,  a  pure  white  pall. 

Beautiful  snow,  a  Father's  hand 
Scattereth  freely  all  over  the  land, 
Keeping  the  frost  king  from  peeping  too 

deep 
Tnder  the  sod,  where  the  violets  sleep. 


L'pon  the  mountain  tops  in  niches  unseen 
Sparkling  with  beauty,  by  sun-light  sheen . 
Under  the  edge  of  the  snow  drift  deep, 
Beautiful  flowers  humbly  peep. 

Emblem  of  love  and  a  Father's  cave. 
Covering  impurity  everywhere, 
Nourishing  the  earth  in  winter's  cold 
Beautiful  snow,  thy  story  is  old.    . 


Red  Ribbon  Tidings. 

Ring  out  the  bells  with  joyous  chime 

And  let  our  hearts  keep  time, 
Oh!  spread  the  glorious  news  afar 

All  right  along  this  line. 
From  Saginaw,  'way  down  the  bay, 

The  boys  are  keeping  time. 
And  now  from  Lansing  comes  the  cry, 

All  right  along  this  line, 
At  Bath,  a  little  way-side  town, 

An  echo  floats  in  line, 
And  Laingsburg  is  the  banner  town, 

All  right  along  this  line. 
Owosso  now  connecting  link, 

And  Bennington  must  join, 
( 'hesaning,  St.  Charles  and  Oakley  too. 

All  right  along  this  line. 
Ring  out  the  bells,  your  colors  float. 

Our  hearts  keep  joyful  time, 
Oh!  spread  the  glorious  news  afar. 

All  right  along  this  line. 


108 

Our  Loved  Ones. 

So  many  have  lately  departed, 

Gone  to  the  other  shore- 
Just  stepped  over  the  threshold, 

Ne'er  to  come  back  any  more; 
The  aged  one,  foot-sore  and  weary, 

Who  wanted  to  see  Jesus  so, 
Finished  her  work  bright  and  early, 

That  she  might  be  ready  to  go; 
She  lives  now  in  yonder  bright  mansion, 

A  bright  and  glorified  star, 
But,  thinking  of  dearly  beloved  ones, 

She  left  Heaven's  door  ajar. 
Death's  shafts  fly  swiftly  and  surely, 

Claiming  the  good  and  the  true; 
Xo  wonder  the  angels  come  quickly, 

Calling,  dear  Jennie,  for  you; 
The  baby  that  ne'er  saw  its  mother, 

Is  now  fast  asleep  by  her  side, 
While  she  who  was  once  ''Jennie's  baby." 

Now  cheers  the  lonely  fireside; 
We  hope  that  for  thee  it  was  given, 

To  leave  all  that  earth  held  so  dear— 
We  hope  we  may  meet  thee  again 

In  Heaven,  where  there's  never  a  tear. 
Another,  who  loved  little  children, 

And  gathered  them  oft  at  her  knee, 
To  tell  them  of  Jesus  and  Heaven, 

And  teach  them  God's  children  to  be; 
She  heard  and  obeyed  the  glad  summons, 

Rejoicing  His  servant  to  be, 
Remembering  the  words  of  our  Saviour, 

"In-as-much  as  ye  did  it  to  me."    [uish, 
<  VJISP.  mourner:  Oh  ceace,  then, your  ang- 

And  think  of  the  victory  they've  won — 
Death,  suffering  and  sin  they  have  van- 
quished. 

The  cross  they'  ve  ex  changed  for  a  crown. 


109 

A  Quiet  Christmas. 

Ah  yes:  It  is  Christmas, 
"And  all  through  the  house 

Not  a  creature  is  stirring, 
Not  even  a  mouse." 

The  children  who  once 

Made  us  merry  with  laughter 
"Till  the  echoes— awoke 

Even  up  to  the  rafter; 

And  down  in  the  cellar 

Each  boy  found  his  way, 
And  with  pockets  well  filled 

No  longer  need  stay. 

But  up  by  the  fire 

Concluded  to  stop 
And  enjoyed  seeing 

The  snowy  corn  pop. 

Then  with  music  and  song 
How  the  moments  flew  by. 

Sweet  memories  these 
Of  the  sweet  bye-and-bye. 

But  our  children  have  grown 
To  be  strong,  noble  men, 

And  our  daughter  the  fairest 
Of  our  children  seven. 

And  up  in  that  home 

Where  no  partings  can  come 
There's  a  daugter  to  welcome 
Us,  all  to  that  home. 

Our  children  are  dwelling 

By  mountain  and  sea, 
And  the  youngest  is  roaming 

O'er  ocean  and  lea. 


Hut  their  voices  stfll  blend 

In  my  memory  to-day, 
A iid  I  see  each  dear  face 

Though  so  far,  for  away. 
i-,ach  one  has  a  mission 

On  earth  to  fulfill, 
fn  our  Master's  vineyard 

There  is  soil  to  till. 
May  each  do  his  duty 

Each  one  do  their  part, 
To  bring-  peace  and  love 

To  each  loving  heart. 
Then,  with  gifts  of  remembrance 

And  loving  letters  to  read, 
We  will  thank  Thee,  our  Father 

For  supplying  our  need ; 
And  fcrust  thee  to  bring 

Us  together  once  more 
To  that  flower  strewn  land 

On  the  Pacific  shore. 
Laingsburg,  Dec.  25,  1889. 


Memorial  Day. 

Bring  rosemary  for  remembrance 

Of  pur  soldier  boys  to-day: 
\Y'e  pinned  it  on  their  uniforms 

When  they  gaily  marched  away. 
All  wearied  with  the  conflict. 

How  peacefully  they  lie 
'Neath  the  waving  Southern  holly, 

And  the  cloud-flecked  Northern  sky, 
For  their  graves  are  widely  scattered 

O'er  the  land  that  they  have  blessed: 
The  green  mounds  of  our  heroes. 

Link  the  East  unto  the  Wfst. 


Ill 

Hetonka, 


<".'ome  listen  to  Hetorika's  prai.se 
\Vhile  here  for  you  a  song  we  raise, 
.So  listen  to  our  sweetest  lays 

M>  brother,  Oh  my  brother. 
Our  Indian  friends  are  very  brave 
And  wise,  in  order  IKS  to  save 
From  pain  and  death  and  early  grave, 

My  brother,  Oh  my  brother. 
Hetonka  is  our  friend. 

Hetouka's  fame  has  ever  stood 
To  save  our  men  and  womanhood, 
From  rheumatism,  it  is  good, 

My  brother,  Oh  my  brother. 
Then  let  us  sing  Hetonka' s  fame 
Our  medicines  of  every  name, 
Hut  put  the.  allopaths  to  shame, 

My  brothel,  Oh  my  brother. 
Hetonka  is  our  friend. 

For  nature  is  a  friend  indeed 

Who  fills  her  storehouses  with  seed, 

With  roots  and  herbs  and  flowery  mead, 

My  brother,  Oh  my  brother. 
The  Indian  is  nature's  child, 
Who  first,  in  this,  our  country,  wild 
Saw  these  were  good  and  sweetly  smiled. 

My  brother.  Oh  my  brother. 
Hetonka  is  our  friend. 


112 


Last  Words. 

Dedicated  to  the  Memory  oi 
JAMES  S.  HALL  of  Canisteo,  N.  Y..  who 
died  of  heart  failure  June  27,  1890  at  the 
home  of  his  sister  Mrs.  H.  R.  Sharpe  of 
Laingsburg,  Mich.,  where,  by  ift  vital  ion 
with  his  wife  and  daughter  he  attended  the 
wedding  of  his  niece,  Miss  Carrie  Sharps. 
June  18.  '90. 

"  What  did  you  say,  dear  father?'' 

Said  a  loving  daughter's  voice. 
As  she  listened  for  the  tones 

That  once  made  her  heart  rejoice. 
Again,  in  whispered  words  he  said. 

While  softly  fell  her  tears — 
"  My  darling,  only  daughter, 

I  am  only  saying  my  prayers." 

And  soon  the  youngest  sister 

Who  once  in  childish  glee, 
Around  his  fireside  played 

And  sat  upon  his  knee- 
She  heard  a  murmuring  sound. 

"Dear  brother,  speak  to- me"— 
"Nearer  my  God  to  thee — 

Nearer  to  thee." 

The  loving  wife  and  mother 

Still  lingered  by  his  side, 
As  lovingly  as  when 

He  claimed  her  as  his  bridn. 
No  words  come  as  a  token. 

Only  a  loved  embrace — 
While  love  and  joy  unbroken 

Glowed  on  his  dying  face. 


1 1  :•' 


No  loving,  tender  message, 

Could  he  seRd  those  noble  boys. 
Who  waited  for  his  coming, 

With  true  and  heart-felt  joys. 
And  other  loved  ones  hastened 

To  his  side.    All  hearts  were  stinvd 
As  they  listened  to  the  murmur 

Of  his  solemn,  dying  word. 

Sweet  echoes  of  the  bridal 
Had  scarcely  died  away 
Ere  this  noble,  oldest  brother 

Came  back  to  us,  oae  day. 
And  strangers  gently  fanned  him— 

Then  they  bore  his  form  away. 
To  the  loved  ones  who  were  waiting 

In  the  home  so  far  away. 

The  look  was  sweet  and  peaceful 

That  rested  o'er  his  brow, 
And  we  know  his  spirit  wander--* 

(Ver  paths  of  glory  now. 
So  let  us  pray,  that  God 

Our  brother,  father— be 
''Nearer  my  God  to  thee, 

Nearer  to  thee." 


"He  Being  Dead,  Yet  Speaketh,' 

Ah,  must  we  grieve  for  thee 
Our  gentle  brother,  friend  ! 

Was  no  physician  near, 
A  helping  hand  to  lend? 

To  heal  thy  heavy  load  of  pain. 

And  make  thee  well  and  free  again 
Thy  happy  home  to  cheer. 


114 

\Ve  will  not  grieve  for  thee, 

For  a  kind  friend  was  near: 
He  pittied  thy  complaint 

And  lent  a  listening  ear: 
lie  bore  thy  sorrows,  healed  thy  woe* — 
His  heart  with  sympathy  onflows, 

At  sight  of  every  tear. 

»Ve  will  rejoice  with  thee, 
That  in  the  springtime  of  thy  life 

•I<'siis  himself  drew  near. 
And  sweetly  whispered  to  thy  heart. 

"My  son  be  of  good  cheer. 
"Believe  in  me  I  am  the  way." 
My  strength's  sufficient  for  the  day, 

Look  up  and  never  fear. 

Rejoice,  rejoice  with  me, 

Look  not  within  the  grave, 
And  think  that  I  am  there; 

Jesus  hath  need  of  me 
In  yonder  happy  sphere: 

My  work  on  earth  's  already  done. 

In  heaven  I'll  wear  the  victor's  crown — 
•Jesus  in  love  draws  near. 

\\V'  will  rejoice  with  tlifc 
That  at  the  dawning  of  the  year 

Ministering  angels  came: 
•'Tis  right"  "'all's  well"  he  calmly  said, 

••  For  mo,  shed  not  a  tear: 
Rejoice,  rejoice,  the  victory  is  won 
Thy  will,  O  (Jod,  alone  be  done — 

Mv  home  is  near." 


11." 
To  Alice. 


How  beautiful  is  love  unspoken, 
Though  typified  by  love's  own  token; 
The  work  of  loving;  heart  and  hands, 
Fond  memory  holds  the  scattered  strands 
»So  linked  with  all  that  is  good  and  trw\ 
'Twas  all  the  aching  heart  could  do. 

Some  cannot  speak  the  love  they  feel 
But  like  the  organ's  dying  peal 
It  vibrates  through  their  being; 
But  the  mind's  mysterious  feeling. 
Tender  look  and  eyes  soft  beaming. 
Tell  the  story  of  love's  dreaming. 

Softly  fades  away  the  day 

Filled  with  youth's  fond  dreams  ahvay. 

But  the  morrow  shines  as  bright 

As  though  there  never  had  been  night. 

Emblem  of  that  brighter  home 

Where  no  shadows  ever  come. 

King  out  again,  the  viol's  strain 
Music  is  a  friend  to  joy  and  pain: 
1  ,et  it  not  lie  and  sigh  alone. 
But  let  it  breathe  a  more  joyous  tone; 
For  there  are  roses  blooming  still, 
And  there  are  hearts  who  fain  would  fill 
Your  life  with  joy.    Be  glad  and  gay. 
And  life  will  seem  one  happy  day. 

.The  roses,  music,  song,  are  ours; 
Life  and  sweetness  in  the  breath  of  no  \vcrs 
Store  not  in  marble  urns  away, 
Give  those  rare  gifts  away  each  day, 
To  the  poor,  the  perfume  of  the  flowers; 
To  the  sad,  soft  music's  soothing  powers. 
Back  to  our  lives  their  influence  comes. 
And  'Move"  finds  voice  in  lute  and  songs. 


EI6 

Memories  of  Home. 


Wulldog  ;>mid  the  shadows, 

Around  the  orchard  green, 
Looking  among  the  branch*1.^ 

To  see  the  sunlight  sheen, 
Cutting  away  the  thick  boughs 

To  let  the  daylight  through, 
This  >s  the  only  work — 

'  )ur  father  now  ea»  do. 

i>vs  that  he  once  pfontefl, 

In  the  long,  long  time  ago, 
\Vhe»  in  the  prime  of  his  mai>hoo<?. 

He  set  them  is>  a  row, 
When  children  in  their  gambols. 

In  all  their  boyish  glee 
Followed  him  €>ver  fhe  greeasward. 

To  bold  «iich  ti»y  tree. 

Hue  now  the  boys  are  leaving 

The  well  worn  paths  of  home, 
Striving  in  busy  manhood, 

Mid  other  scenes  to  roamr 
tint  never  once  forgetting 

Parents  and  sister  dear, 
As  the  memories  that  linger 

\vomul  the  old  hearth  stoue  h*r«r, 


117 

Our   Pioneers. 


Kead  at  the  Fiftieth   Anniversary   of  th-." 
Shiawassee  Baptist  Association. 

\Vhat  shall  the  record  of  lifty  years  be, 
The  record  of  half  a  century?  " 
Memory  answers,  I  know  full  well, 
Their  toils  and  trials,  heart-throbs  will  tell 
All  the  sacrifices,  pioneers  made 
In  the  days  when  Baptist  history  was  laid 
Where  are  our  fathers?  where  are  they  ? 
Ah!  Memory  say,  they  passed  aw;:y, 
13 nt  their  work  follows,  to-day, 
We  reap  what  they  sowed,  alway. 

They  came  from  the  Eastern  main, 
Never  to  go  to  old  homes  again, 
Toiled  with  their  hands,   the  earth  to  till 
lUiilt  cabin  homes  with  a  hearty  will. 
Christian  freemen,  the  soil  they 'trod 
In  humble  confidene  in  ( Jod 
They  met  to  pray  in  barn  and  home, 
Waiting  for  better  times  to  come 
\Vhen  they  could,  their  offerings  bring 
To  build  a  temple  to  our  King. 

Church  homes,  as  if  by  magic  sprung. 
And  hymns  of  solemn  joy  were  sung. 
For  God  had  blessed  the  labor  of'their 

hands 

And  joined  them  in  associational  bands. 
To-day  the  records  sweetly  tell 
Of  pioneers'  work  done  weJl. 
Let  us  rejoice  in  this  centennial  year 
That  earnest  labors,  rich  fruitage  bear. 
And  though  our  rainbow  shines  through 

tears 
Let  us  be  faithful  through  coming  veai>. 


Oh  !  churches  of  the  living  God, 

! 'iii-sin-  the  path  our  sires  have  trod. 

List  to  appeals,  for  all  the  world; 

Let  the  banner  of  the  cross  be  unfurled. 

Lift  high  the  standard;  onward  move: 

Our  Leader  is  the  God  of  love; 

On.  on.  through  all  the  land  we  pr;i  \  . 

Si -a  tter  the  gospel  seed  to-day. 

Then,  in  the  next  centennial  year 

Our  labors  shall  a  harvest  bear. 


To  A  Dying  Friend. 

Fading,  slowly  fading 

Like  a  fair  spring  blossom, 

Going,  calmly  going 

To  sleep  on  tin'  Savior's  bosom. 

Leaving,  gladly  leaving 
Objects  of  earth  so  dear. 

Going1  to  Heaven,  going. 
A  golden  crown  to  wear. 

Breaking,  gently  breaking 

Affection's  tender  ties. 
Waiting,  gladly  waiting 

Thy"  summons  to  the  skies. 

Her  words  are  sweetly  sounding 
Mother,  I  am  going  home, 

Loved  ones  now  cease  your  weeping 
Til  greet  you  when  you  come. 


119 


Weep  Not. 


Two  little  graves 

Side  by  side, 
They've  opened  the  door 

Of  heaven  wide. 

Two  little  forms  lie  sleeping 
Beneath  their  turf-bound  bed. 

Two  little  ones  rejoicing 
By  gentle  streams  are  led. 

Two  little  forms  are  resting 
Upon  the  Savior's  breast, 

Suffer  them  to  come  He  said, 
To  me,  they  shall  be  blest. 

Two  little  stars  are  added 
Unto  the  Saviour's  crown; 

For  little  ones  He  died, 
They  surely  are  His  own. 

Two  voices  now  repeating 
The  song  of  Jesus'  love, 

Swelling  the  choral  strain 
From  infant  lips  above. 

Wait  at  the  door 

And  catch  the  strain; 
Weep  not  for  me, 

We'll  meet  again. 


The  Contrast. 


Oh!  God  can  it  be,  oil  each  side  our  street 
That  scenes  so  different,  our  visions  meet. 
One  lies  in  shadow,  the  shadow  of  death, 
TJ»H  other  gives  out  a  life-giving  breath. 
Oh!  why  is  this  dftvi-ence.   why  does  dark- 
ness rest 
On  one,  while  light  crowns  the  other  with 

golden  crest? 

Oh!  why  do  the  fathers,  brothers  and  sons 
Go  yonder,  within  its  dark  shadows  alone. 
Instead  of  crossing,  just  over  the  street. 
And  meeting  with  those,   would  joyfully 

greet. 

Them  in  our  temperance  home  each  niglu 
Where  all  is  pleasant,  joyful  and  bright? 

Oh!  ye  who  do  business  upon  the  dark  side 

And  ye  who  by  stealth  within  those  doors 

glide 
WhR4  is  theiv  so  cheering,  so   attractive 

to  all? 
And  yet  over  the  scene  you  throw  a  dark 

jiall. 
Why  darken  your  windows?  why  shut  out 

'rhe  light? 
What  is  there  that  you  would  screen  from 

our  sight? 
Ah!  I  see.  there's   the  shadow,   no  sign  is 

more  cle.-tr. 
Behind  the  curtain  there  stands  two  bar- 

•'  beer. 
Why  close  your  doors,  and  hide  from  our 

View? 

Why  not  let. us  see  all  thegoodyoucando? 

Then  open  them  wide,  let  us  get  an  insight 

that  is  done  ov^r  there  each  night. 


121 


We  challenge  you  fairly.  let  us  prov*3  no\\ 

our  works. 
Let  us  search  out  the  -serpent  ?i!;.i   se< 

where  it  lurks, 
Is  it  hid  'mid  the  ftowers  of  hope,   truth. 

and  love? 

\  s  its  record  of  death  recorded  above  ? 
Ah  I   I  see,  iu  the  glass,   which  you  gaily 

pass  'round. 
The  serpent  lies  coiled,   ready  to  spring 

with  a  bound, 
Oh  !  God  wilt  thou  help  us,  our  friends  tr. 

remove? 

For  see,  the  serpent  is  begining  to  move 
Yes!  higher  and  higher,  it  is  circling  no\\ 
Just  ready  to  spring  nt  some  loved  one'.- 

bro\v, 
Great  God!   wilt  th on  help,  ere  it  be  too 

late. 
To  save  our  boys  from  a  drunkard's  fate. 


l,et  us  turn  to  the  bright  side,  how  bright- 
ly the  beams 
Of  light,  over  the  darkness  and  sh;x!o\\  .- 

now  gleans. 

Telling  of  home  joys  ami  a  welcome  to  all 
Our  friends,  whenever  they  give  us  a  call. 
You  will  find  in  our  room,  hearts  tender 

and  true 

And  earnest  in  feeling  sympathy  for  you 
\Vho  feel  the  power  of  the  tempter  to-day 
And  need  but  a  word  to  lead  you  astray. 
Oh  listen  to-night  to  the  voice  of  a  friend 
Who  is  ready  a  helping  hand  to  lend. 
Oh  turn  from  th<>  dark  side,  we  pray  the" 

to-night 
1  'omeoverwe'l  help  you.  Dart-  to  do  rfclit. 


122 


Come  brothers  and  sisters,  let  us  unite 
in  making-   our  temperance  homes  more 

bright 
Lft  the  words  we  speak  and  the  songs  we 

sing 
Have  in  them  always,  a  true  temperance 

ring. 
Lnt  us  all  wear  the  ribbons,  be  loyal  and 

true 

Emblematic  of  love  and  purity  too, 
Let  us  labor  with  courage:  perhaps  \\> 

•  •an  save 

Someone  from  tilling  a  drunkard's  grave. 
Tome  weary,  wandering  brother,  come 
Knjoy  the  light  of  onr  temperance  home 
With   music's  soft  tones,  we'll  greet  you 

f-ach  night 
And  help  you  forever  to  dare  to  do  right. 


Brothers,  To  The  Rescue, 

<  Mir  good  old  ship  has  sailed 

Through  many  stormy 
lint  still  our  dear  old  nag 

fs  floating  in  the  breeze. 
A  greater  storm  is  coming 

It  darkens  every  brow. 
If  yon  would  save  our  ship 

Don't  vote  for  license  now. 

Then  brothers,  to  the  resriu- 
In  the  storm  that  is  coming  sure. 

Kach  freeman  do  his  duty 
And  vote  for  Prohibition  Pure. 


12:5 


Don't  vote  for  any  j tarty 
That  will  not  save  our  homes, 

But  labor  on,  and  wait 
Till  Prohibition  comes. 


Blessed  Are  The  Pure  In  Heart. 


Pure  in  heart  O!  Lord  I  pray 

Let  me  live  from  day  to  day, 

Let  every  act  and  word  of  mine 

Say,   Lord,  I  am  entirely  thine. 

Purity  shining  in  every  word. 

Purity,  deep,  in  the  heart  when  .stirred: 

By  the  voice  of  love  and  sympathy 

Then  dearest  Lord,  O!  let  ine  be 

Strong,  with  thine  arm  around  me  thrown 

Strong,  in  thy  love,  and  1hine  alone. 

And  when,  by  storms  and  tempest  driven 

I  fail  to  see  my  home  in  heaven. 

Then  may  the  light  of  perfect  day, 

Descend  within  my  heart,  I  pray. 

Pure,  shining  from  above, 

A  token  of  my  Father's  love, 

That  guides  me  in  the  narrow  way 

And  leads  my  stops  from  day  to  day. 

That  lifts  the  cross,  so  hard  to  bear. 

And  gives  them  to  the  Savior's  care. 

Upon  the  rock  the  cross  now  rests: 

Let  me  recline  upon  thy  breast. 

A  child  of  love  Oh  !  lot  me  be. 

My  heart  so  full  of  sympathy 

For  those  who  feel  the  deathly  stint; 

Of  sin — it  is  a  bitter  thing. 

So  pure  in  heart.  Oh  !  let'me  be 

That  I  shall  live  in  heaven  with  thee. 


Bakersfield, 

Out  of  the  ash*-*  arises  the  new 
Showing what  faith  and  true  eonniL 

do; 

>'oura;»;e  to  hop?  a  iid  patience  TO  wait, 
I'ouragv  to  work  though  weary  and  faint 
Showing  w'Smt  mew  with  true  pttrposecan 

do 

When  the  motive  to  labor  is  iuspii-ing'too 
Out  of  tiif  ]»ast  the  i'urure  will  g-row 
liri^'ht  with  the  lov^hone.st  effort.sb^srou 
Hoiu^s  will  ariht-1.  more  beautiful  far 
Than  those,  now  redneed  to  aslu-s  weic. 

Monies  gilded  o'er  with  hojie's  i-ailientstar 
\Vill  rise,  in  their  bftmt.v  and  influence  far 
Moi-e  enticing  to  win  from  the  far-off  East 
Those  wishing  to  enjoy  I  hum-  nature's 

glad 

Of  ro.sfs  and  lillies  a>nl  mistletoe  bough 
Enlivening  the  scene  wlrile^'cr  mountain's 

brow 

The  purest  of  snow  is  distinctly  seen. 
Making  it  all  like  a  fairy  dream. 
Heautiful  land  of  sun  and  flowers, 
'lod's  Ulessing  descends  in  gentU-sijowers. 

k'eqi  from  those  newiind  beautiful  homes 
An  evil  that  stalks  abroad  in  the  gloom, 
Search  out  mid  the  leayee  of  the  flowers  too 

The  serpent,  which  coils?  to  spring  on  you 
When  lea*t  expected,  its  poisoned  breath 
Will  bring  to  your  home  the  knell  of  death . 
Then  rise  in  the  might  of  your  mnnhood, 

we  pray 

Drive  from  your  town  this  monster  away 
1'ure,  from  ils  ashes,  let  Bakei'sh'eld  rise 
And  anthems  of  joy  \vill  ascend  to  theskies. 


125 

We  Are  Going  Home  To  Mother. 

This  poem  was  written  for,  and  was  read 
by  the  author's  brother-in-law  Mr.  J.  H. 
Osborn  of  Tecumseh,  Michigan,  at  a  fam- 
ily reunion  at  the  home  of  his  mother  in 
Elkhart,  Indiana,  November  24th,  1889, 
that  being  her  Eightieth  birthday, 

We  hear  a  voice,  a  loving  voice, 

Calling  us  home  together; 
Oh,  it  makes  our  hearts  rejoice, 

Each  sister  dear  and  brother, 
To  think  that  after  many  daj^s, 

For  years  we  have  not  met, 
But  now  our  many  sundered  ways 

Are  drawing  nearer  yet, 

For  we  have  heard  our  mother's  voice, 

Calling  her  children  home, 
To  greet,  and  with  herself  rejoice 

That  eighty  years  have  come. 
But  soon  her  footsteps  will  draw  near, 

Another,  heavenly  home, 
Where  loved  ones  beckon  her, 

Our  mother  dear  to  coiue. 

So  we  will  clasp  each  other's  hands, 

With  loving  hearts  and  true, 
To  join  once  more  the  family  band, 

And  prove  our  love  to  you. 
\Ve  thank  our  Heavenly  Father, 

For  this  gathering  to-day; 
May  we  all  meet  together, 

To  spend  eternity,  we  pray. 

The  following  lines  were  also  written  for 
the  occasion,  by  her  son,  Mr.  B.  A.  Oeborn 


126 


of  Saginaw,  Michigan,  who  was  p 
and  arranged  for  the  next  at  his  home. 

With  joyful  hearts,  we're  gat.heni  here. 
Again  to  meet  with  mother  dear: 
This  anniversary,  year's  four  score, 
That  she  has  dwelt  on  this  earthly  shore. 
Brow  furrowed  deep  with  marks  of  time. 
She  still  is  spared  to  meet  her  nine', 
Five  sons  are  here,  and  daughters  four': 
But  some  are  on  that  other  shore. 
Two  brothers  gone,  and  father  there, 
At  rest  in  peace  from  toil  and  care.     • 
But  though,  of  loved  ones  we're  bereft. 
We'll  thankful  be  that  we  are  left 
To  cheer  dear  mother's  lonely  life, 
Till  she  is  called  from  earthly  strife. 
And  when,  erelong,  we  too  have  gone 
To  dwell  in  that  eternal  home. 
May  we  in  that  bright  world  above, 
Be  joined  again  with  those  we  love. 
Now  brothers,  sisters,  one  and  all, 
Prepare  yourself  for  that  last  call, 
Then,by  God's  grace,shalImother'selev<Mi 
Be  joined  again,  above,  in  heaven. 


Eighty  To-day, 


Cares  wrinkled  the  brow  of  dear  mother. 

Her  hair  is  now  turned  quite  gray: 
One  hardly  would  think  so,  to  see  her. 

That  mother  is  eighty  to-day, 
rler  children  have  all  gathered  round  her. 

They  have  come  from  homes  faraway. 
To  show  their  love  and  affection 

For  Mother,  who's  eighty  to-day. 


127 

Oft,  in  our  youth;  would  she  chide  u.«, 

When  determined  to  have  our  own  way 
Kind  words  of  advice  did  she  give  us, 

Our  mother  who  is  eighty  to-day. 
And  while  we  sojourn  here  together, 

With  kind  words  we'll  cheer  her  lone  way 
Till  she  hears  God's  call, (come up  higher,) 

To  our  mother,  who  is  eighty  to-day. 

And  when  the  last  trump  shall  be  sounded 
And  heaven  and  earth  pass  away, 

May  we  all  meet  with  mother  in  heaven, 
Dear  mother,  just  eighty  to-day. 


God's  Finger  Touched  Her.  and  She 
Slept, 

God  made  the  lovely  flowers, 

Some  bright  and  rare, 
Others  more  beauteous  are, 

And  some  so  sweet  and  fair 
They  cannot  stand  the  storms  that  sweep; 
God  touches  them,  they  gently  sleep. 

God  givs  us  loved  ones  here, 

To  grace  our  home; 
Filled  with  affection,  dear 
To  our  hearts,  become. 
God  sees  our  treasures  will  not  keep, 
So  touches  them,  they  gently  sleep. 

God  chastens,  but  in  love, 

And  firmly  holds  the  rod, 
That  lifts  our  souls  above, 

While  low  beneath  the  sod 
Our  loved  ones  lie,  softly  weep, 
God  touches  them,  they  gently  sleep. 


Light  Beyond. 

Light  has  broken  through  the  darkness. 

Ore  the  mountain,  see-it  comes; 
Bringing  light,  and  peace,  and  gladness. 

To  those  far-off  heathen  homes. 
Yes!  a  ray  of  light  is  gleaming, 

Hope  and  mercy  in  its  beam. 
And  the  brightness  of  its  shining 

Makes  the  darkness,  darker  seem. 
Souls  who  never  dreamed  of  gladness. 

Homes  where  love-light  never  came, 
Darkened  lives  now  filled  with  brightness 

Rejoicing  in  a  Saviour's  name. 
What  a  change  the  gospel  maketh, 

Turning  darkness  into  light; 
Bonds  of  caste,  the  gospel  breaketh, 

Making  lives  and  homes  more  bright. 
Bringing  peace  where  discord  reigneth, 

Hope,  where  all  was  dark  dispair, 
Life  and  love,  the  gospel  bringeth, 

Joy  and  beauty  everywhere. 
But  the  glorious  light  of  morning, 

Stealing  o'er  the  mountain's  brow; 
Promises,  even  in  its  dawning, 

What  the  future  will  bestow. 
Glorious  gospel!  light  of  heaven. 

Shining  in  their  darkened  homes, 
Tells  them  now  of  sins  forgiven, 

Tells  them  of  a  world  to  come. 
Christian  sisters  !  can  you  tarry 

When  there  is  so  much  to  do  ? 
Hasten  quickly  then  to  carry 

O'er  the  mountain,  this  glad  news. 
Glorious  news !  a  free  salvation 

To  all  nations,  bond  and  free; 
Carry  them,  the  blessed  tidings, 

Over  mountain,  land  and  sea. 


S  >e  the  heathen  mothers  standing' 

With  their  children  by  the  door. 
With  their  hand*,  th^ir  faces  .shading-, 

Watching  as  the  light  streams  o'er. 
O.er  the  mountain,  see  it  shining-. 

Brighter,  brighter  now  it  gleams. 
Each  fond  heart  with  rapture  filling, 

Changed  indeed  becomes  the  scene. 
Those  who  once  in  darkness  sitting, 

Welcome  give  the  man  of  Goil. 
Gently  listen  to  his  teaching. 

Kneel  with  him  upon  the  sod. 
Shall  I  paint  a  scene  so  truly, 

Make  it.  seem  as  real  to  you, 
Listen !  I  will  tell  the  story. 

Just  as  it  really  happened  too : 
Clinging  to  the  mountain  sides. 

'Villages  are  thickly  spread; 
Down,  a  gentle  stream  doth  glide, 

Palm  trees  waving  overhead. 
Down  the  narrow  pathway  treading. 

l  'arne  a  band  of  faithful  onns. 
All,  in  songs  of  praises  joining, 

As  the  teacher  leads  them  on. 
Hear  a  signal  call  ascending, 

Breaks  the  solemn  stillness  there. 
And  in  answering  shouts  resounding", 

Wakes  the  echoes,  far  and  near. 
By  the  water  now  they  linger, 

Stepping  in  its  liquid  depths, 
Man  of  God  !  with  lifted  finger 

Tells  them  now  of  Jesus'  death. 
Buried  then,  they  were,  with  Jesus. 

Buried  in  His  life  and  death. 
Let  us  join  in  joyful  chorus. 

All  with  one  united  breath. 
Praises,  let  us  sing  to  Jesus, 

He  who  saved  us,  bond  and  free, 


Hallelujah!  swell  the  chorus. 

Let  it  sound  o'er  land  and  s 
-  have  passed,  and  blessed  ti< 

Clieer  us  as  we  labor  now, 
For  the  glorious  light  is.  shining. 

Full  upon  that  mountain's  brow, 
idols  now  are  lying'  broken, 

Millions  now  to  Jesus  bow, 
Heathen  gods  are  now  forsaken. 

The  God  of  heaven  is  worshipped  now. 
Far  beyond  fair  India's  mountain. 

Where  are  valleys,  hills  and  plain. 
Till  beyond  the  grand  old  ocean, 

Echoes  back  the  glad  refrain. 
Christ  is  King!  all  heaven  rejoice-. 

And  the  earth  repeats,    Amen. 
Sisters,  let  us  join  our  voices 

In  one  grand  Millennial  hvmu. 


An  Appeal. 

Sisters,  can  you  longer  wait  ? 
Toiling  early,  toiling  late, 
Working  only  for  thine  own. 
Leaving  noble  work  undone. 
Sisters,  hear  ye  not  the  cry. 
•Save  us !  save  us !  or  we  die. 

Waiting,  waiting  Ah,  so  long. 
Never  on  thy  lips  a  song, 
Weary  children  almost  dead. 
Never  by  God's  finger  led. 
Sisters,  rouse  thee  from  thy  sleep, 
Wait  for  Christ,  and  sometini- 

Weep  for  sinners,  lost,  undone, 
Labor  on,  but  not  alone. 


T  am  with  thce,  Jeans  said. 
Wheresoe'er  thy  feet  are  led. 
Sisters,  trustingly  obey, 
".roiling  faithfully  each  day. 

Sisters,  there  is  work  to  do, 
Work  for  all.  for  me,  for  you. 
Comes,  the  cry  from  far  and  near. 
In  our  land,  wide  fields  appear, 
And  the  Freedmen's  plaintive  cry. 
On  Southern  winds  is  passing  by. 

Welcome  sisters,  to  our  bands, 
Let  us  work  with  willing  hands, 
And  our  hearts  imbued  with  love, 
Strength  will  come  from  God  above, 
Sisters  rally,  then  to-day, 
Help  us  toil,  and  give,  and  pray. 

Woman's  Pair  Name. 

Fresh  from  mothers  loving  lips, 
Ere  babyrs  hands  and  finger  tips 
Have  learned  that  'tis  the  lot  of  imm 
To  toil  for  bread,  while  others  scan 
Her  actions,  be  they  good  or  bad. 
Not  caring  if  our  hearts  are  sad, 
Or  what  the  hidden  motive  be. 
Which  prompts  the  actions  that  we  see 

Woman's  fair  name  —  so  sweet  a  thing 
That  angels  pause  on  quivering   wing 
To  hear  the  sound,  then  fly  away. 
Bright  guardians  of  the  night  and  day 
But  baby  grows,  and  ere  we  know 
The  days  of  childhood  quickly  go. 
And  in  our  home  a  woman  stands. 
Beset  with  cares  on  every  hand. 


Fair  beaut  v.  innocence  and  gra<-e, 
Like  radicnt  gems  adorn  her  face, 
While  intellect,  the  crowning  gem. 
Adds  to  her  brow  its  diadem, 
Then  in  the  pleasant  walks  of  life, 
As  daughter,  sister,  or  loving  wife. 
She  meets  with  those  who  feel  the  ft 
And  love  to  call  her  by  her  name. 

But,  often  in  this  world  of  ours. 

AVe  meet  with  thorns  as  well  as  11  < 

So  when  a  woman  daily  toils 

'Tis  hard  that  others,  then,  should  soil 

Her  name,  and  make  it  hard  to  bear 

The  burdens  that  we  all  should  sharp. 

<  )h,  is  it  not  a  galling  shame 

To  tarnish  woman's  precious  name? 

Then  deem  it  not  a  little  thing, 
To  whisper  words  whose  hidden  spring. 
Is  that  dark  brood  by  discord  sent, 
Pride,  envy,  jealousy  and  discontent, 
In  mercy's  name  then,  spare  the  sting. 
That  wrankles  deep  — the  shadowing 

<  >f  slander,   and  do  thou.  instead, 
But  think  of  Him  who  simply  said — 
"He  who  hath  sinned  not,  cast  a  stone." 
The  fair  accused  must  stand  ahone; 

Her  persecutors  shrink  away, 

All  self-condemned,  for  none  can  say.— 

"Behold  me,  Lord,  faultless  I  am, 

l"nmarred  by  sin.  a  perfect  man.'' 

Then  rob  her  not  of  her  fair  name; 

Dye  not  her  cheek  with  a  blush  of  shame, 

That  e'en  in  thought,  her  name  should  be 

Linked  with  the  word  impurity. 

God  help  us  all,  with  truth  to  claim 

That  priceless  boon,  a  spotless  name. 


In  Memoriam, 

Faithfully  her  pledge  she  kept. 
And  only  for  her  loved  ones  wept, 
Gladly  she  heard  the  summon 8  eonif. 
<.'ome  weary  child,  there's  rest  at  ho  in-, 
She  longed  to  join  the  happy  throng. 
And  find  her  little  one  among 
The  little  children  gathered  there. 
Where  all  is  Heavenly  and  fair. 

She  gave  her  noble  womanhood, 
To  earnest  thought  for  babyhood. 
To  teach  the  boy  to  be  a  man, 
After  God's  wise  and  loving  plan, 
To  teach  them  nature's  simple  way>. 
Uniting  knowledge  with  their  plays: 
Dear  sisters,  may  her  mantle  fall 
fjp on  each  worker  one  and  alL 

"Precious  the  vows  we've  humbly  made. 
Ourselves  upon  the  altar  laid 
To  save,  to  wait  at  His,  God's  will, 
V  willing  service  to  fulfil. 
Grant  us,  dear  Father,  strength  each  <la\. 
And  faith  to  labor  and  to  pray; 
Her  dying  words,  bequeathed  to  u*. 
So  full  of  love.  Glory  to  Jesus! 

The  ikmch  of  God's  finger  laid  her  low. 
His  loving  voice  that  bade  her  go: 
His  hand  that  beckoned  her  away 
To  realms  of  everlasting  day; 
How  short  her  life,  yet  full  of  woe. 
The  sin  of  others  grieved  her  so, 
For  these  she  toiled,  for  them  she  sighed:. 
£>he  gave  her  life,  for  them  she  died. 


134 

Our  Banquet—1890. 


We  are  seated  around  the  tables 

Oi  our  banqueting  hall  to-day, 
The  aged  sire  and  matron. 

The  youth  and  maiden  gay. 
We  represent  the  faiths 

Winch  reigu  in  hearts  to-day, 
A  spirit  that  will  conquer 

And  drive  this  curse  away. 

We  miss  to-day  the  snow-flakes 

At  this  season  of  the  year, 
They  come  as  gentle  messengers 

Bringing  to  all  good  cheer. 
We  represent  to-day, 

A  power  that  will  bring 
A  shower  of  pure  white  ballots, 

Our  New  Year's  offering. 

So  onward!  cheer,  my  brothers, 

Fresh  courage  take  to-day. 
There's  an  enemy  before  you 

Strong,  and  in  battle  array. 
But  your  sisters  are  in  earnest, 

Strong  is  the  tie  that  binds; 
.In  sympathy  we  labor — 

One  in  action,  one  in  mind. 

Let  us  work,  and  pray  together, 

Unflinching  meet  the  foe, 
Heroicly :  the  martyr  faith 

Inspiring :  strike  the  steady  blow. 
Leaving  the  past  behind  us 

Working  with  soul  and  might- 
God  helping  us  we'll  labor 

'Till  wrong  shall  be  made  right. 


All  liail :  this  New  Year's  day 

And  bless  the  spirit  in  our  land. 
Which  joins  the  aged  and  the  young; 

In  Prohibition  bands. 
<God  help  our  boys  and  girls 

To  sing:  and  firmly  stand, 
To  fight  it  out  on  this  line 

F'?r  God  and  Dative  laud- 


Be  True. 


WTierever  we  are, 

Whatever  \ve  do, 
Let  us  strive  to  do  rig&t — 

Let  us  ever  be  true. 

So  much  there  is  false 
In  this  world  of  ours, 

We  gather  thorns 

When  we  look  for  flower.1? 

E'en  friendship's  smfle 

Is  -often  sad, 
When  friends  prove  false 

Who  once  were  glad. 

Be  true  to  ourselves, 
Be  true  to  our  God, 

Then  with  living  faith 
Obey  his  word. 

Then  when  life  is  o'er 
Our  pilgrimage  done 

Oh!  Heaven  will  be  true, 
A  crown  will  be  won. 


To  Jessie  On  Her  Birthday, 

( think  of  thee  J  ESSIK.  when  the  goi*. 1- 

blooms, 
••u  know  how  vvt     IOVM!  ITS  lY-uiLerx 

plumes 
As  it  danced  in  the  sunlight,  in  storm,  or 

in  shade; 
As  it  grows  on  the  hillside,  in  marshes,  or 

glade. 
I  low  regal  it  stands  amid  grasses  and 

weeds 

Alone,  yet  widely  scattering  its  seeds. 
That  the  future  a  bountiful  harvest  may 

yield 
As  it  grows  on  the  roadside,  valley  ami 

field. 
Everywhere   blooming,     its  rich,    sunny 

smiles. 

Many  a  slimmer  hour  beguiles. 
Let  us  stand  alone  like  the  golden-rod 
Striving  to  do  the  will  of  God. 

Then,  it  blooms  on  your  birthday,   wo 

love  it  well 

For  many  a  story  of  yon  it  tells, 
When  at  home,  with  your  frierifls.  An  sum- 
mer hours 

You  roamed  at  will  to  gather  flowers. 
And  brougth  home  bundles  of  goldenrod, 
With  its  colors  so  bright,  and  gentle  nod, 
Emblem  of  all  that's  youthful  and  true, 
A  symbol  of  love,  dear  Jessie,  and  you 
As  you  stood  in  our  home  one  bright  star 
Gleaming  upon  us  now,  from  afar, 
Still  aim  to  be  Jessie,  like  the  goldenrod. 
Submissively  bowing  to  the  will  of  God. 


Our  nation's  emblem  this  sunny  flower 
Grows  in  any  state  in  this  land  of  our.s, 
Its  beautiful  plumes  wave  for  rich  and 

poor, 

( I  racing  even  the  cottage  door. 
Emblem  of  wealth  with  its  golden  hue, 
( )f  plentiful  harvests  and  fruitage  too. 
A  queen  among  grasses,  and  flowers  and 

weeds, 
Emblematic  of  truth,    kind  words  and 

good  deeds. 

So  darling,  foe  willing  to  stand  alone 
As  queen  of  home,  and  let  music's  tone 
Breathe  forth  your  love,  and  trust  in  God 
Who  gave  us  this  flower,  the  goldenrod. 

Life   on  the  Rockies. 

Upon  the  rocky  mountain  heights 

Where  miner's  cabin  rests, 
Emblems  of  God's  power  and  might, 

Crowned  o'er  with  snow-white  crest. 
Within  the  mountain's  bosom  sleeps 

Treasures  but  little  known, 
Except  by  prospectors  who  toil 

And  labor  all  alone. 
Away  from  home  and  loving  friends. 

From  all  that  earth  holds  dear, 
Away  from  sympathy  and  love 

He  toils  in  silence  there. 

And  weary  stood  with  tired  feet 
Where  man  ne'er  stood  before, 

And  views  with  wonder  and  delight 
Scenes  full  of  solemn  awe, 

How  mighty  are  those  ranges, 
How  hard  those  granite  walls, 


138 

Where  silence  reigns  supreme 

But  God  is  seen  in  all. 
"What  wonderful  panorama 

Of  mountain— hill  and  plain, 
Lit  up  with  radiant  sunsets 

As  when  morning  comes  again. 

Great  God,  be  with  my  boy  to-night, 

In  his  lonely  cabin  home, 
Grant  him  success,  reward  his  toil, 

That  he  may  hasten  home. 
We  long  to  see  his  sunny  smile, 

To  clasp  his  loving  hand ; 
And  welcome  once  again 

An  unbroken  family  band. 
But  more  than  all,  dear  Father, 

Reveal  thy  love  to  him, 
May  every  running  stream  or  flower 

Fresh  inspiration  bring. 

May  his  life  upon  the  Rockies 

Unfold  his  inmost  soul, 
To  love  the  God  of  nature 

His  youthful  heart  control. 
To  love  the  principles  of  truth 

And  all  that  is  good  and  pure. 
May  his  character  be  strengthened 

Like  the  granite  to  endure. 
Amid  the  rugged  paths  of  life 

Oh,  God,  be  thou  his  guide, 
And  let  the  sunshine  of  thy  love 

Surround  his  path  alway. 


139 

Dialogue,   for  Alton. 

Q.— What  do  you  know  about  Jesus? 

Ans.— That  He  is  the  Son  of  God. 

Q.— Does  He  love  little  children? 

A  —Yes— for  He  said  in  His  word,  "Suf- 
fer little  children  to  come  unto  Me." 

Q. — What  more  does  he  say? 

A.— He  told  them  to  feed  His  lambs. 

Q.— Are  we  Jesus'  little  lambs  ? 

A.— Yes,  he  came  as  a  little  child,  that 
we  may  be  saved.- 

Q.— What  can  we  do  for  him? 

A.— Show  our  love— by  attending  Sab- 
bath School,  to  study  His  holy  word. 

Some  little  thing  for  Jesus 
We  can  do  every  day, 
And  love  Him  in  our  hearts 
Even  while  we  play. 

Let  us  ask  Him  to  make  us  good ;  and 
let  us  love  our  teachers,  who  try  to  do  u£ 
good. 


The   Seasons, 

The  Spring-time  is  passing  away, 
The  Summer  is  gliding  along, 
Let  us  work  with  a  will  while  we  stay, 
Oft  cheering  our  labor  with  song. 

The  Autumn  winds  surely  will  come, 
Stern  Winter  will  not  linger  long, 
Our  work  cheerfully,  faithfully  done, 
Our  reward — a  glad  welcome  home. 


140 

Comforting  Thoughts, 

I  am  breathing  the  breath  of  flo\ve 

So  precious  and  so  sweet, 
They  tell  of  hope  and  Heaven 

And  happiness  complete. 
Where  spirits  roam  with  pleasun 

Along  the  golden  streets, 
AVhere  angel  sisters  gather 

Our  weary  ones  to  greet. 

I  am  thinking  of  our  sister 

Who  passed  from  us  away. 
Flowers  tell  of  life  and  beauty 

And  yet  they  will  decay. 
So  these  frail  bodies  wither, 

Stay  with  us  but  a  day, 
While  our  immortal  spirits 

Live  through  eternity. 

So  let  us  love  the  flowers. 
Fair  messengers  of  God, 

He  taught  from  them  true  lesson- 
As  here  on  earth  he  trod, 

Of  patience  and  submission 
While  passing  under  the  rod. 

And  causes  them  to  spring 
From  out  the  grassy  Soti. 


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